129: A book lover's book

I’d known it was a mistake the moment I’d agreed to it months earlier. I only had myself to blame. I’d allowed myself to be persuaded by Kenneth. He’d said how difficult he now found reading and perhaps I’d like to take over leading the Boxing Day book club. Then I’d found myself under pressure to choose a book so as to give the others time to read it. Of course, I’d just snatched an old favourite from the shelves. Now I only had a few days left to work out the case for possibly the unlikeliest bestseller of all time when it was first published over fifty years ago. I comforted myself with the thought that it was short. I’d read the author’s other works, knew a lot of biographical detail, but all the same. The only thing clear, was that the title needed explanation, I decided to start with that.

‘I suppose you’ll be expecting another Aunt Elisabeth tea?’ Said Charlie, breaking in on my thoughts.

‘It’s not me, it’s the others.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You just don’t have the will to refuse them.’

Melisa was kind enough to deliver Kenneth, and surprised me by accepting his invitation to sit in. He began by introducing me; ‘Tony’s choice today is, blessedly, a very short book and unusually for us biographical in nature, a book of selected correspondence. But I know it’s a book lover’s book, I read it first, oh, longer ago than I care to remember. Tony.’

‘Thank you, Kenneth. I think what caused me to reach for this volume was the sense that the author would have felt entirely at home in the modern world of the Internet and social media. She’d undoubtedly have been an influencer. Her lack of formality, her brevity, despite being a professional writer, is of course in sharp contrast to the recipient of her letters. Even her choice of typefaces is redolent of today. I think I can best be of service by saying something of the historic context of the book. 84, Charing Cross Road was just a small bookshop in a sea of bookshops, large and small, in nineteen forty-nine. Even more than twenty years later, when Helene Hanff finally got her wish to visit London, the Charing Cross Road was where everyone went, when in search of books that could not be found on a WH Smith bookstall. If a book was still in print then the giant Foyles had it, or at least they could get it for you. If out of print, then you could trawl the street for a good, clean copy. I regret to report that today, 84, Charing Cross Road is a McDonalds. Although it rates a blue plaque on the wall. The average time spent in that fast-food chain was once calculated as seven minutes! I imagine all of us have spent longer browsing in a bookshop. Now, who’d like to start the discussion?’

‘She implies she was more or less starving in her New York garret, is that true?’

‘Yes, but there was an element of choice to it, her first love was Broadway. She was for decades determined to be a playwright. And was singularly unsuccessful. 84, was her second book. The first was Underfoot In Showbusiness, an autobiographical account of her struggles.’

‘It’s often portrayed as a love story. Do you think she was in love with Frank Doel, despite them never meeting?’

‘No, I think they were pen pals, her love was for the England of English literature, he facilitated that. I think you need to understand how much of an autodidact Helene was. As a result of educating herself via the public libraries of Philadelphia and New York, she stumbled on the work of Arthur Quiller-Couch and allowed herself to be led by him.’

‘Quiller-Couch was a professor of English Literature at Cambridge.’ Said the lady who used to work at the library. ‘He was a Cornishman of course, but partly educated in our county. Everyone called him Q.’

‘He was keen that everyone should approach literature through the language used, how it was grounded in the real world around them, so great emphasis on biography and historical context.’ I commented.

At this point the ex-librarian opened her copy of 84 at a page she’d marked and said; ‘February 9th 1952, she’s talking of Walton’s Lives, I quote; “Q quoted enough of it so I know I’ll like it. Anything he liked I’ll like, except if it’s fiction. I never can get interested in things that didn’t happen to people who never lived.” End quote. Bit of a challenge to our little group, don’t you think Tony?’

‘Indeed. There’s another letter somewhere, in which she confides she feels she ought to know about Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and asks for a modern English version. Later she comments something like, if he’d written about what it was like to be a lowly clerk at the court of Richard III, she’d have learnt old English for that!’

‘Nobody writes letters anymore.’ Someone said. ‘I mean a letter is private, and you hardly know what you think until you start writing, its personal, you know the person you’re writing to.’

‘I guess that’s what really dates my choice. If most of you have read the edition which includes The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, the diary of her first visit to London after the publication of 84, you’ll know that Joyce Grenfell, one of the great letter writers of the twentieth century, rapidly contacts Andre Deutsch in the hope of contriving an introduction to Helene. My bookshelves heave with Joyce, one volume contains almost daily letters, from childhood onwards, written to her mother, younger sister of Nancy Astor, another volume of lifelong letters to her childhood friend Virginia Graham.’

‘Nobody even writes emails, if they can help it. Instant opinions offered online, where do our reflections go? Sorry, I must be sounding like a terrible old bore.’ Offered Kenneth.

‘Did you approve of the play and the film, Tony?’ Said another.

‘Well, by the standards of the modern theatre and Hollywood, absolutely! Both faithfully reproduced in the script as many of the letters as they could. Just a two-hander really. A split stage and a split screen. Bookshop, interior. Small New York apartment, interior. Rather jolly and intimate.’

Then suddenly my reverie was interrupted by the sound of an approaching tea trolley. Melisa jumped up to help Charlie serve all us oldies. Aunt Elisabeth’s best china tea service, decorated Christmas paper napkins, side plates for sandwiches, followed by a fork for the consumption of gateau. Later a desert bowl and spoon for trifle. Conversation switched to the decline of letter writing in general, whilst I thought of all that washing up. Someone spoke of postcards and airmail letters from afar. Soon we were on to the decline of the Royal Mail. Four deliveries a day in London once upon a time someone claimed. Had anyone preserved a travelling post office I was asked. I had to concede I wasn’t that much of an expert on railways.

After a while I thought to myself, this room is beginning to take on the atmosphere of a Victorian tea, in a very upmarket care home, contrived with the sole purpose of facilitating reminiscence therapy. Was I becoming fascinated by just the past now, back with the History I'd started with as an undergraduate? Enough, no more dying from a severe attack of nostalgia. Get me out of here, no get these people out of here.

72: Charlie takes leave

‘You’ll be okay, if I leave you for a week?’

‘Of course.’

‘No hatching of plots.’

‘Cross my heart...’

‘That’s alright then.’

‘Tea’s ready Kenneth.’

We sat at the kitchen table. ‘This is very good of you. I was quite prepared to fix my own refreshment.’

‘Least I could do.’

‘Since we’re alone, I thought I might approach the subject of fruits.’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I was wondering what you might require?’

‘I, don’t require anything. But if you and Charlie are willing to go to the time and trouble, I’m more than happy to tell you what would get my approval and hence what I’d be prepared to pay for.’

‘I see. Charlotte has confided how involved you’ve been with your uncle’s place over the years, she says I shouldn’t be taken in by your stand-offish-ness. You do care rather a lot about the garden. And your concern betrays knowledge.’

‘I trust history Kenneth, this is a smallish Victorian suburban garden, if you think there is room for a plumb, and or apple, and or cherry tree, I’ll go with that. Also, traditional raspberry canes and gooseberry bushes - well, so much the better. As for strawberries and tomatoes, that really would mean all three of us mucking in at certain times of the year.’

‘All sensible choices, but a little unambitious perhaps?’

‘You started this conversation by saying “since we’re alone.” Is there something you couldn’t discuss in front of Charlie?’

‘Oh, no. It was just that, she warned me off, refused to brief you herself.’

‘She does know me quite well!’

‘You do have a south facing wall, sir.’

‘Oh, no! No way. I’ll not see you waste your declining years. Better to live without the worry, the obsession. You’ll be far more productive on general upkeep. And after all man, what do you get at the end of the day, a couple of shrivelled apricots, blotchy nectarines and probably a single peach.’

‘The wall does show evidence of previous ties.’

‘And since when was that evidence of success? Expunge the idea from your mind, I’ll forget you ever mentioned it.’

‘Your aunt once said much the same thing. There is one other, small matter, quite unrelated.’

‘Go on.’

‘The Book Club has settled on the reading list for the next six months, Charlie said I should mention my choice for Boxing Day, on account of her having seen a copy in your library.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Buchan, The Thirty-nine Steps.’

‘Good lord! Although I don’t know why I should say that, just because it has become unfashionable.’

‘Exactly.’

‘You think the redoubtable ladies will appreciate it?’

‘I intend to mount a sterling defence of it. I thought you might care to join in, rather than just hover in the background. Charlie says you have one of those minds that absorb everything. I’m sure you’d be marvellous with examples, especially since age tends to wear so badly on the memory, for that which one read only yesterday, so to speak.’

‘I’ll be prepared to repel boarders then.’

‘Excellent. Anyway, I mustn’t waste anymore of the dry weather.’

‘I say, I’ve got a scheme old man, thought you might care to come in on it.’

‘Can’t be done I’m afraid, I’m under strict orders not to get involved in anything whilst Sparkwell’s gone fishing. She thinks, she’s the one who keeps me out of trouble.’

‘Whilst, in fact you have been drawing her into your schemes for ages.’

‘Oh, dear. Are people really beginning to notice Cat?’

‘Well, only those who’ve known you the longest, like your uncle and myself. Actually, it’s more of an idea for the club rather than anything covert. Just thought I’d consult a little before mentioning it publically and all that.’

‘You’re beginning to intrigue.’

‘As well as the Christmas lunch, we need to start another tradition, another event, say a couple of months or so earlier, start offering members a proper schedule, our own high days and holidays.’

‘Go on.’

‘An annual Work’s Outing, but in the autumn when the tourists have gone and we can get a good party rate.’

‘And your suggestion for this first event?’

‘Get the steam railway’s old charabanc to pick us up from the club, take us to their Bay station, then onward to the old historic navy port, finally a boat trip up the river to the castle on the hill.’

‘Could turn out to be a day of soggy sandwiches.’

‘But that’s just my point, our own reserved carriage on the train, just like returning to school in the old days!’

‘Yes, I don’t mean to put a damper on it, but anyone whose been around these parts for any length of time, has all ready done that itinerary.’

‘Not as group. Taking a day-off, or do I mean a day-out. Members only and spouses as guests. Or in your case, the two of you could invite another couple, so could Barmy and Daphne too, come to think of it.’

‘You’d need people who’d realise what it was, work’s outing or school trip, varsity club.’

‘Absolutely. Have to get the recruitment literature right.’

‘And of course, a packed lunch included.’

‘Now you’re getting into the spirit of it!’

‘Er, tell me Cat, just asking out of idle curiosity, who would you invite to join you on such a misery tour?’

‘Well, as yet to be determined. But recently I’ve been making friends with the lady at number forty-two.’

‘She’s the answer to life, the universe and everything is she?’

‘Ah, yes, very funny. You know to whom I am referring?’

‘Oh, yes. Always seemed a friendly sort to me.’

‘A widow, she and her husband both worked for one of the banks that have now deserted the high street. Comfortable pension. She has this cruise bug, like so many, well, any organised tour to places of historic interest, if it comes to that.’

‘You should suggest an exclusive tour of your parent’s place.’

‘Well, I’m sort of working up to that, if our day out goes without a hitch.’

‘I can just see you motoring off, if you take on that Triumph sports of Jack’s.’

‘The open road only exists for a few hours a day, at particular times of the year, even going strictly cross-country from here.’

‘Strictly, now there’s a word. An annual dinner dance, with a band.’

‘What?’

‘That’s another possibility, now the ballroom is back in commission.’

‘Oh, right. You mean a nineteen forties dance, stroke swing band?’

‘Absolutely.’ There followed one of those pauses for quiet reflection. ‘You know, I’m beginning to warm to this project of yours. Charlotte and I could invite Mr and Mrs Walpole along.’

‘And who are they?’

‘Well, he is a recently retired defence barrister, with an equivocal reputation.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘A bit of a thorn in the side of Charlie’s father.’

‘How often have you met this chap?’

‘Only the once, I was introduced by the Don. He having cut his teeth on some of Walpole’s more notorious cases.’

‘Not like you to instantly take to someone.’

‘Well, I suppose I do have an ulterior motive.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Charlie made a spontaneous remark which made me wonder whether it wouldn’t be a good idea to get on the right side of old Walpole. A gut response that one would do well to pay attention to. She said you and I should watch out, that Walpole would see through the machinations of you and I, in an instant!’

66: Repairs and renovations

‘Mr. Mackintosh is with-out, sir.’

‘Without what?’

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

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

‘Very good, sir.’

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

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

‘You think so?’

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

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

‘The garden is looking most impressive.’

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

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

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

‘It smells a bit odd.’

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

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

‘Well, now.’

‘Well, what?’

‘I’m waiting.’

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

‘How’s the apartment?’

‘Fine, fine.’

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

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

‘Really.’

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

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

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

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

‘Indeed.’

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

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

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

‘Go on.’

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

‘Subject normal then.’

‘More or less.’

‘More or less?’

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

‘Ah, well, nice to be forewarned.’

‘I’m in the money again.’

‘Oh, yes?’

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

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

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

‘Ah, excellent.’

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

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

‘What a charmer you are.’

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

‘So, what is the real situation?’

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

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

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

‘Sir.’

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

‘I have already prepared the room.’

‘Good lord!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Really?’

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

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

‘Thank you.’

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

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

‘Oh, do feel free to speak.’

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

‘You have a proposal to make?’

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

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

‘Can I take that as a, yes?’

27: Book of the month

‘What’s all this?’

‘It’s not me it’s the others. They’ve been coming up to me for weeks, “I say old man, slip this under your tree for Sparkwell”, I didn’t want them to know all your business so…’

‘It’s going to look a bit bad when they realise I haven’t reciprocated.’

‘Not anymore!’

‘How do you mean?’

‘They don’t expect anything in return, in fact even if you were inclined to, you shouldn’t. It’s like the tipping, they’re giving you what is justly yours. They’re fans Charlie, and as long as you don’t start behaving like a Diva, you’re set for life. You just have to slightly adjust your view of yourself, give yourself slightly higher status. Imagine we’d met during a war, that you’d been my trusted soldier servant, that we’d saved each other’s lives, etc.’

It was Christmas morning and for the very first time we were having a lie in. Charlie had even allowed use of the teamaker so generously provided by the Park. We stared into space, wondering what to do with a country mansion that was ours alone for the next twenty-four hours.

‘How come Julia isn’t a Countess, but just a Lady?’

‘Ah, yes, well, ha, now we are into dark waters, and I can’t pretend to really understand, try searching College of Arms.’

‘Who?’

‘They’re a sort of office of state, there to keep the official record of titles, and the rights that follow from them, everything the Crown has given away down the centuries.’

‘My mobile is in my bag, you explain. I mean a Countess is more important surely, normally goes with an Earl.’

‘Well, the thing is, these days, looking on from the outside, then yes, Countess seems grander. They could go about as the Earl and Countess of this place, but it’s something about the lesser title Uncle had when they first married, being older. If you’re part of the aristocracy what really counts in terms of status is longevity, how far back in history your direct ancestor got their title and authority. And, over the years, as with so many things, the number of different titles has expanded, more and more people have been given them with more and more elaborate names, a sort of grade inflation I suppose. Then again it may all just be in a family name, catch Cat Mackintosh when he’s had a skin-full and he’ll claim, “my people came south with James I”. Now that’s well before the act of union, well before any Scottish dukedom. Ask him about Scottish independence and you’re likely get the reply; “Independence from whom?”

‘Do you know how to get onto the roof?’

‘Yes, but don’t tell anyone, especially Uncle.’

‘You can have me up there. In fact, lay it on.’

‘Yes, best left till the spring. Then in the summer you can spend a night up there alone looking at the stars. You know I’ve noticed lately you’ve started giving very direct, one might say unemotional statements, that’s what I’m meant to do, whilst you’re supposed to be flooded by emotion. I never thought much of the idea of an autistic spectrum as you know, but now I’m thinking it has totally out lived its usefulness.’

‘American users of services often call themselves neuro-atypical.’

‘Interesting. On the other hand if all the vital hormones are neurotransmitters too, especially those which can permeate the nasal cavity…’

‘Dirty sod.’

‘..you and I must be thoroughly locked-on to each other by now, our brains will have already developed new neural pathways, new structures. What I mean is, neither of us can be what we once were.’

‘What you mean is, we’re stuck with each other!’

And so we idled away our time, until late in the evening a text arrived from Aunt Elisabeth. ‘Gosh, things must be bad, we’ve been asked to rally round.’

‘Sorry? I don’t get it.’

‘Well rather than turn up at four o’clock prompt tomorrow for tea as honoured guests, there to mingle with the members of the Book Club, she’s humbly requesting we turn up at noon, help organise, make tea and serve etc.’

‘What happened?’

‘Not sure, she just says, “let down by my usual caterers”.’

I started briefing Charlie more or less as soon as she pulled out of the Park carpark, there was some ground to cover. Naturally enough, parking arrangements at Aunt Elisabeth’s rather desirable Edwardian town house took a while to explain - not least because the Aunt disapproved of my two-seater and always wanted it out of sight. Then the house itself. ‘What you have to understand Charlie is, although that side of the family made money from trade, nonetheless they always aspired to grandness, to acquiring a history, so you’ll find the whole interior a bit museum like, not just out of date because of her age, but the walls of every room are used as a kind of billboard for advertising the enterprise of all my ancestors, that is those who achieved something Auntie approves of, there are quite a few others who have been quietly forgotten.’

‘Shame, they’re the ones I really need to know about!’

‘Keep your eyes on the road. Now then, you’ll also find various bits of medical tech discretely left lying about and when she refers to the domestic help I’m never quite sure of their status; housekeeper or home help, carer or nurse, cook or chief bottle washer - see what I mean?’

‘I know a bit about that, she’s confided a lot about the people she’s consulted for various complaints down the years.’

‘Excellent. Now, the guest list. Although almost all of them are well to do, none of them are as rich as she is - and as you are aware she herself is better off than she realises - so, many of them look forward to her turn as host with eager anticipation, a mix one suspects of envy and admiration, of despising at the same time as wanting to know how it’s done. Now, here we are, the house is the third one up the street coming up on the left, but as I said keep going because we need to park in the back lane.’

As she came to a halt and cut the engine Charlie remarked; ‘Is there enough space for others to pass?’

‘Just, it was of course built for the tradesmen’s horse and cart, not a coach and four.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure, look at the clever kerbstones, the steep camber, there are no storm drains, water runs straight down the road and about a quarter of a mile distant goes over the cliff into the bay. It worked too, those palm trees we passed have flourished for a century, properly drained you see…’

‘You’re nervous, that’s what sends you all nerdy.’

‘Well, just a bit.’

‘Stick to the essentials, we’re on time but only just.’

‘Okay, so we enter by the back gate, it’s a long garden, but a nice straight level path for the delivery boy’s trolley.’

‘Shut, up!’

As we walked up the path we passed under the rather tatty remains of what must have once been a rather spectacular bower. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…’

‘We’ll be late.’

‘It’s okay, she’ll be able to see us from the villa now.’

‘Villa? Oh I see, as in detached. Well get on with it.’

‘Julia wasn’t quite on the mark when she said I had fantasies of you being mistress of Checkley. The fact is the old aristocracy were rather good at recognising the differences between men and women, our need to do our own thing and for personal space. When I think about the manor I imagine owning it and having charge of it, making it my space. There, the lady of the house would fit in with my wishes. However, these couples of olden days usually had another property in town, naturally the wife had her own social circle and anyway might well live in a place like this during various seasons of the year, where she’d be the one calling the shots, so to speak. I merely mention this in passing.’

Charlie turned to face me, with a definite thrust of the chin. ‘You’d better look sharp about it my lad, because if you can’t keep me satisfied, day to day, week to week, your future imaginings will be just so much bollocks!’

As we approached the back door there was the sound of bolts being drawn. ‘Thank you for coming at such short notice my dear. Anthony, show Charlotte how to use the scraper.'

As we passed through the old pantry: ‘Now I’ve found you an old apron, but it does have some lovely embroidery on it, it used to belong to Bernard Merriweather’s mother, she was a wonderful cook, started out in life working as a maid for that dreadful man who made his millions from convenience stores and had that mock castle built on the edge of the Moor. She was forever recalling how the flat roofs leaked. Anthony, you’d better remove that jacket, roll up your sleeves and put on this gardening apron of Mr Murchison’s, who by a strange coincidence is related to…’

25: Ghosts of Christmases past

‘Your mail, sir.’

My eye was caught by something bright and shiny entering my periphery. ‘Oh, we like that, we like that a lot, where on earth did you get it?’ Charlie was brandishing a silver tray or platter of some description upon which was a single printed letter, three apparent items of junk mail and the latest edition of The Countrywoman in a plastic wrapper.

‘I found it in a charity shop, I’ve been buffing it up. I hadn’t realised how polishing could be made an exercise in mindfulness.’

‘Oh well! In that case, you’ll find my handmade shoes at the bottom of the wardrobe.’

‘That reminds me I must sort through your clothes, some will need discarding, but most just need altering so they hang properly on your new body. I’m looking forward to meeting your tailor, never met one before.’

‘Yes, I suppose it has to be faced. Edoardo is going to love you, you’ll both be on my case in seconds, I don’t stand a chance.’ Then a thought suddenly struck me. ‘You know, he’s a bit of a sportsman, if you to hit it off, and he appreciates what we’re about, he might have some ideas about how to dress you.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘In your role, to use Daphne’s expression, as my valette.’


Later, as I was concluding a brief perusal of the magazine I couldn’t help wondering what the advertising said about the readership. Inside the back cover the entire page was given over to ‘bespoke’ fencing for an authentic ‘heritage’ effect, supplied by Woodlast Woodcrafts Ltd of Wellingsfield. Well, if it pays the bills I thought.

‘Julia has asked me to become a guest columnist.’

‘Excellent.’ I replied.

‘I’m not sure. There is lots I could say, it’s just I’ve never done that kind of writing.’

‘I’d be more than happy to edit you.’

‘She says most of the magazine has become too old fashioned, but she’s afraid of losing the readers she’s got. Her editor says she wants me to write about wellbeing and ecotherapy, but without the naff language. She says the column needs a title. I can’t image what.’

I found a piece of scrap paper and scribbled “The Home Wood Spirit”. ‘Just off the top of my head, as a start, traditional and modern?’

‘How do you do that? Get started I mean. Creating stuff.’

‘By knowing that the first attempt won’t be great, but then it doesn’t need to be. It just has to get you started.’

‘So how do you know when you’re finished?’

‘Well most people have deadlines. But you should know something can never be perfect, so you stop when it’s good enough, for now!’


‘So what do you normally do for Christmas?’ She said it like she was dreading the answer.

‘Well, it’s always been a sort of back and forth movement between Aunts as you might imagine, just a little less so whenever I’ve been involved with someone. The last couple of years it’s been Checkley for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, then to Aunt Elisabeth’s for a Tea with the Book Club on Boxing Day.’

‘A book club on Boxing Day!’

‘Yes, it started life as an ordinary book club, hosted by a local library, but over the years it’s become all Auntie’s cronies, so they now tend to meet in each other’s houses.’

‘Literary, “tea and scandal”.’

‘Now that is good, but if you’re going to remember everything I say…’

‘Were they good Christmases when you were a child?’

‘Yes, and we do the dead a disservice if we don’t remember the good times. Wordsworth said it best, “Surprised by joy - impatient as the Wind ..Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind. But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour…” His three-year-old daughter had died, he reproaches himself for letting the memory of her death, exclude his remembering the joyous moments of her life. Of course it also took me a while to appreciate that my aunts might be missing a brother and sister too. Sometimes it seems important to regress, to be the idiot child, they seem happier when I’m like that sometimes.’

‘My parents are alive and well, I see them about three times a year, but never at Christmas.’

‘There is some talk, that the Club Christmas lunch could be held on Christmas Eve itself. Quite a few of the members have no particular place to go. I could book one of the bedrooms for us?’

‘What about Checkley?’

‘Well they’d be honoured guests at the lunch.’

‘Yes, book a room. No surprises mind.’

‘The only surprise, if it goes ahead on the twenty-fourth, is that the Club has adopted the military tradition of officers waiting on other ranks.’


It was mid-afternoon about a week before Christmas that the apartment doorbell rang triggering the online imagery of two figures, Madam Concierge and our regular postie. Strange.

‘Personal delivery by hand sir, to be signed for’. I hesitated.

‘I found him in the building at an odd hour.’ Said the Dragon as some sort of justification for her presence.

‘I’m not expecting a parcel Barry, any idea what it is?’

‘Has the weight and feel of paper sir, like a mail order catalogue or a pack of printer paper.’

‘There’s no sender info apart from this code?’

‘No sir, they have to give their name and address to our computer though. It’s been scanned for security obviously. All I know is the first five digits there, tell you it’s our district, so a post office sometime after nine this morning.’

‘Thankyou Barry, most helpful, where do I sign?’

After closing the door I sat and fondled the parcel for a while. ‘Well! Open it.’ Charlie instructed.

‘Mm… The sender has clearly walked into one of our main post offices, grabbed stationary, had the counter help parcelling it up, and sent it, paying top whack.’

‘Oh for goodness sake, less of the Sherlock!’

I took my best scissors from the draw and began work. Charlie seemed agitated, rocking a little on her feet, it took me a moment to realise this was hovering - normally felt, not seen. ‘Well you could knock me down with a…’

‘I certainty could.’ She replied.

‘Ha! So much for “Recollections of a Long Life”, the sly old bugger, this is something else altogether, oh look - a note or missive. “Just a first draft you understand, sent it to Eddie, former County Librarian who will edit, thought you ought to see it if you are in this for the long haul.” Well, well. There appears to be a final chapter that is contemporary, but clearly a go at history, rather than gossip…’

‘What’s it called then?’

‘Brilliant, “Cattle Rustlers and Courtiers - a family history”.’


Uncle’s great work, over three hundred pages long, managed to grab our undivided attention in the days running up to Christmas. He wrote as he spoke, but that would be his editor’s problem, not ours. The story was more or less the Reformation to the present day, a gift of land by the Crown, for services rendered during Elisabeth I’s reign. The document screamed loyalty, continuity, community and a spirit of place.

‘He’s challenging you.’ Charlie said.

‘Yes, yes he is. And, despite the lack of a blood tie, offering numerous reasons to spend every last penny on the Park. This isn’t me making money for the Trust, this is Uncle’s mental takeover of another family’s Trust! And there was Julia, thinking it was some other kind of revenge.’

‘He has you snookered old boy!’