126: Evil under the sun

I had retreated to the media room, on account of Charlie having a private client. I hadn’t noticed the doorbell ring, but perhaps she’d seen whoever, arriving. After an hour or so of worrying those at the old bank about post-election strategy, I stretched my legs by wandering into the bedroom and looking down on the garden. I was shocked to see Charlie ferrying, it was the only word for it, a crouching Tuffy along the path to the back gate.

‘How was your client, responsive to the Sparkwell touch?’ I asked over our lunchtime rations.

‘Not really. I ended-up introducing some yoga for him to practice.’

‘Good God! Well, that explains it I suppose.’

‘Explains what?’

‘Why your so-called client was bent double leaving by the back gate.’

‘You saw?’

‘I did indeed.’

‘It wasn’t my idea!’

‘I imagine not.’

‘He insists everything should be shrouded in secrecy, not just from Victoria, but from you too, in case you were tempted to blab. He said; “You know Tony, he has tentacles everywhere.” He's overwhelmed.’

‘What’s happened to the poor fellow?’

‘I'm not even sure about that. He spent quite a time muttering about the railway.’

‘Our railway?’

‘No, the model set in the attic. He thinks he could create something more authentic than your lot.’

‘Good lord! Well, yes if it’s a model then it’s always simpler.’

‘I just wish he'd give some thought to who he’s talking to, I mean his twin obsessions are you and Victoria, how can I be expected to observe client confidentiality when there’s such a conflict of interest?’

‘They do say, that having chosen someone as your confessor it’s often difficult to break the habit.’

‘I say! There’s no packed lunch, damn it.’

‘Calm yourself Tuffy.’ I asserted. We were all aboard the old charabanc, heading out from the club on our annual Awayday. This year we were off to Bilberry-on-Sea, with a promise of lunch at the posh hotel on the island that sat across the causeway.

‘They’ll be takeaway coffees at the beach, whilst we wait for the sea tractor to ferry us across.’ Said Cat, taking on his usual role of tour guide.

Walpole and Helene were sat behind us, enjoying a tour again. ‘Well, this is very pleasant. You realise we hardly go anywhere together these days Walpole.’

‘Alas, pressure of work.’

‘That’s what you used to say in the old days, you’re meant to be retired!’

‘Well, I say work, but more like a hobby really, something one can be enthusiastic about.’

‘I hope there’ll be no arguments about detectives today.’

‘Strange, I wasn’t aware today’s misery tour took us to local locations from The Hound of the Baskervilles or the disappearance of Silver Blasé.’

‘Really Walpole! You know perfectly well to whom I refer. The island was an inspiration to Agatha Christie, there’s even a summer chalet in the hotel grounds where she used to write.’

‘Oh really? Would I recognise any of her titles?’

‘Evil Under The Sun, was one!’

‘Were there any art-deco buildings that didn’t have flat roofs?’ I said to Walpole as we stood looking at the only feature in the landscape of note, whilst consuming our coffees.

‘I can’t think of any, and they all leaked.’

‘Your Sherlock comment has set me thinking about next year, I’m looking for an alternative to stave off a small cabal determined we should do Christie’s home Greenway next.’

‘Oh lord!’ Then a moment later; ‘Oh, now what? Helene is gesturing with a beckoning digit. See you later.’

Melisa separated herself from the family Gruber and came over for a chat. ‘How was the bank?’ I enquired.

‘Great, Charlie helped me out.’

‘Getting a handle on financial affairs now will save countless hours in the future. Has Jack found you wheels yet?’

‘Yes, Mr Mackintosh’s old van has turned up and he’s fixing it, says it needs a lot of work though. Mother says you’d reassured her I wouldn’t turn up in some fancy sports. You’re involved with all this somehow, you seem to have leverage with practically everyone I meet!’

‘Okay, I confess, I found the van. Cat will transfer ownership to me because I’m doing him a favour in another matter. Jack is under instruction to do it all up to suit your needs, I’ll pay him whatever he sees fit to charge me, depending on how much he feels I owe him. We, have a sort of informal business partnership going. You meanwhile, need to work out how much it will cost you to run, cash you’ll have to pay, wherever it actually comes from, such as insurance, road tax, MOT, petrol per mile etc. When all that’s sorted, I simply transfer ownership to you.’

‘What? Free, gratis and for nothing.’

‘Well, there’s really no need for cash to exchange hands. I owe you an eighteenth birthday present anyway and there are occasional favours you could do for me.’

‘I’m beginning to think mother isn’t right about you!’

‘She’s biased. No, right now, there’s only one thing I can think of that would make a real difference. Would you be willing to chauffer Kenneth back and forth to our place twice a week so he can stay involved with the garden?’

‘Of course, no worries.’

‘Young Timothy not with you today?’

‘I don’t allow him to come just anywhere!’

‘Glad to hear it.’

It was whilst eating our luxurious lunch that I realised that what obsessed modernist architects were the interiors they created, and if that meant an horrendous outside, so be it. We lounged awhile after eating, then the heartier folk set off for a walk around the island. I looked for Charlie, but she was nowhere to be seen, so I just followed the group in front. Later, as we were gathering for the return ferry, I was chatting to Victoria, a few steps apart from all the others. Cat approached looking hassled and declared; ‘We’re missing two!’

‘So much so obvious.’ I replied.

‘What?’

‘I am without Charlie, Victoria is minus Tuffy, thus we deduce they are together.’

‘Good lord! I say, sorry about that and all.’

‘Oh!’ Exclaimed the Lady Vic; ‘I think we’re fairly safe in assuming Charlotte is doing her best to therapize Tuffy! And I don’t think either Tony nor I, would fully claim to know the mind of Tuffy.’

‘Absolutely. Anyway Cat, I suggest Vic and I take ten minutes to walk around the top of the island again, that’ll give us the best view.’

Five minutes later, as we were walking a path above an almost amphitheatre like cove, two figures could be seen on the beach below. I recognised Charlie by the only too familiar pose, that of the assertive fitness instructor. The figure attempting to rise out of Cobra must be Tuffy.

‘He’s only just wolfed down a large lunch!’ Said the Lady Vic.

‘Being on sand won't help. Hush a second, we might be able to hear something...’

‘Now gently rising into Warrior, try not to stretch or strain.’ Charlie could be heard to caution. But Tuffy had other ideas, he pushed on into full Victory pose. Arms out stretched forming a V and fingers spread.

‘Oh, my God!’ Said Vic, then added; ‘She’s changed into her kit.’

‘Yes, Charlie is notoriously high bound in the matter of yoga and fitness apparel.’

It was then, and I can't honestly say what made me do it, that I cupped my hands to my mouth and sent a ‘koo-ee' echoing around the cliff face. Tuffy collapsed instantly in a heap.

‘That was, brutal but effective Tony.’

‘Sometimes you need an utter bastard to stop an idiot.’ I replied.

102: Trouble and strife

‘I’ve just had a phone call from Daphne.’ So announced Sparkwell one morning.

‘What, a real conversation?’

‘Yes. She’s invited herself for morning coffee.’

‘Well, that’s okay. Any idea what she wants?’

‘No. I think she just wants you to do your magic thing on her, leave her feeling all’s right with the world.’

‘Probably Barmy acting strangely.’

‘Or she wants to know why Melisa is dropping by so often!’

‘The reason Mel pops in for tea all the time is that we’re on her bus route between college and home, it’s a way of putting off study for an hour or so.’

‘And it’s not home.’

‘True, and I suppose I flatter myself we offer stimulating adult company. But she also seems to have taken a shine to Kenneth for some reason.’

‘He has his charms.’

‘Really?’ I turned around to confront her, but she was gone.

‘Well, Daph, you’re looking effortlessly glamorous as usual.’ I said, walking into the reception room, where she stood idly chatting with Charlie.

‘Didn’t anyone tell you Tony, not to praise a woman in the presence of another?’

‘Oh, indeed. But I have supreme confidence in my own ability in mental gymnastics to get me out of such situations.’

‘Sounds about right.’ So mumbled Charlie with a deadpan delivery.

‘Try me.’ Asserted Daphne.

‘In youth you were taught to be chic, it all started so early you were never really conscious of it, you absorbed it all until it became second nature. Charlie, lacking such advantages has had to consciously learn to be glam later in life, with the help of my tailor Edoardo and his numerous contacts in the world of the well dressed.’

‘So, tell me this Tony, how come my eldest daughter looks forever like something the cat dragged in?’

‘She, doesn’t have to worry about body adornment. She’s fit, natural in her movements, balanced, well coordinated. Not only is she not bothered by how she looks, neither is anybody else. She has other things on her mind.’

‘You can say that again, the other day I found her deep in conversation with her father about whether using a double locked box, was a more secure way of sending a message than any code! She’s taking after her grandfather for goodness’ sake. Then there’s the constant request for driving lessons and a car to go with them. She’s got it into her head we’re rolling in money.’

‘But you are!’

‘But youth shouldn’t have it handed to them on a plate.’

‘But she’s a grafter, when she’s interested in something. Like Barmy and I, her greatest dread is boredom.’

‘You and Barmy may think her exceptional, but I’m damned if I can see it!’

‘Well of course not! I mean it’s not as if she’s got your brain and Barmy’s good looks, is it?’

‘I’ll get the coffee.’ Said Charlie, promptly exiting stage right.

‘Do be seated.’ I said, directing her to the chair opposite my own in front of the old fireplace, the hearth now being discreetly shielded by a kind of embroidered stand thingy, inherited from the aunt.

‘I, I just want a well mannered daughter with all the social graces, it might sound ridiculous, but you know what I mean. As you say, with Charlotte, you’ve given her, polish.’

‘Mel can remember how to behave when required. You only see her when you’re present. You weren’t the same person when you and I were out in public together as you were with your parents.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘How’s Barmy?’

‘Never bloody there! In and out all the time for the best part of a year now, but never stays for more than five minutes.’

‘What’s he working on?’

‘Officially, defence training for the eastern Europeans. But apparently, it’s all been about getting our data on Russian incoming to the lads on the ground, getting them to trust it enough to then risk their necks using our mobile ground to air kit.’

‘Delivering text in such a way, the receiver acts on it within seconds, now that really is up Barmy’s street.’

‘It is?’

‘Oh, yes. And a great success too.’

‘He was toying with the idea of joining the robot dog team, but I put my foot down at that.’

‘Yes, I saw a stray video online, it was brandishing a machine gun and firing in all directions somewhere in the American west.’

‘Apparently the Chinese have perfected the art of deploying it wherever, using a drone; now we’re playing catch-up.’

‘Coffee everyone?’ Said the returning Charlie, rearranging furniture and drawing up her preferred, straight-backed chair.

‘Thank you, Charlotte, Melisa says you’ve been teaching her a bit of yoga, is she any good?’

‘It’s not a sport, Daphne! People come to it in their own way over time, it’s one way into meditation. It always begins and ends with the breath. It is about skill, but more than most skills you not only have to practice every day, you almost have to begin again every day.’

‘Goodness!’

‘That’s why when you see any kind of master, or guru being asked, what’s the secret to this or that, you get those blunt, simple answers about practice, just throwing the question back again.’

‘Find the answer within yourself you mean?’

‘No, that’s what the dumb western talking therapists say. This is physical practice of a set of movements, forget about answers, let go of all thoughts good or bad, just be. Wait. See what you find yourself doing. Watch the breath.’

‘Gosh. And you’ve signed up to all this too, Tony?’

‘There is no goal Daphne, there doesn’t need to be, we may not even know the path we take, let the future be an open horizon.’

‘This is what you two do isn’t it? With the likes of Tuffy, Prudence, the whole bag-wash!’

‘Up the hillside, now tis buried deep; In the next valley glades: What is a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is the music: Do I wake or... Sleep.’

Charlie managed to catch Daphne’s coffee cup as she slumped back in her chair.

After a few moments or so; ‘You remembered, how sweet of you, that day we walked in fields of corn, picnicked by the stile gate. Jolly old Keats.’ Her eyes caught the portrait above my shoulder; ‘Your aunt looks benevolent today. She wasn’t such a bad old stick.’ And after another long pause; ‘It’s that college, one worries.’

‘Of course.’

‘The place is full of all sorts, no one can get out of education before eighteen these days, she could fall-in with anyone.’

‘A natural enough concern.’

‘Goodness knows, I’m no snob, but drugs, gangs, knives... At least in the sixth, one used to be confined most of the time.’

‘And raising hell because of it?’

‘Yes, alright. But appreciating a little freedom, rather than overwhelmed by too much of it. If only she had more friends her own age?’

‘Well, that’s never going to happen, they bore her.’

‘Why did you and Barmy get married, you were together a long time before?’ Asked Charlie out of the blue.

‘Oh! That was just laying the ground work for coming over to our side and bringing assets with him.’

‘Tony seemed to think you might have been introduced by your father?’

‘Really? No. Well not really. Though I suppose it was at one of Daddy’s get togethers that we first met. Gosh, what a thought.’

‘Does your father know Kenneth Murchison?’

‘My dear, everyone knows Kenneth, bit of a ladies man in his day, not in a creepy way you understand, but regarded as a bit of a security risk on account of his numerous shady ladies.’

79: Things fall apart

I date the end of the pandemic from that morning. Looking up from my screen, I spied Sparkwell through the media room window leading her ladies in outdoor yoga practice on the common lawn affronting the avenue.

Later she appeared before me, slightly perspiring and with a glint in her eye. ‘Namaste’ I said, bringing my hands together towards my chest and giving a slight nod of the head.

‘Fuck, and off, sir. I, have just made, a major breakthrough.’

‘Your first group teaching session turned out a success; I knew it would be.’

‘Not only that. I have set in motion a train of events which I feel confident will lead to the resolution of the two-car problem.’

‘Good lord!’

‘One of my students is the lady at number seven. She may be willing to swap garages.’

‘But that won’t help, we need two!’

‘No, we don’t.’

‘How come?’

‘What you have failed to take account of Holmes, is that the mews is a series of ad hoc conversions, built on a curve, some garages are considerably longer than others.’

‘Ah-ha! Well spotted Watson.’

‘My quarry, and her husband, recently exchanged their grand saloon for a family hatchback, no larger than our two-seater, she is convinced their unit would take two, end to end. I have a viewing tomorrow.’

‘Charlie, you’re a wonder. Take the rest of the day-off.’

‘Ha! The ultimate empty gesture.’

‘Well, go read The Beacon then.’

‘I might just.’

At about eleven o’clock I drifted downstairs to the kitchen in search of coffee and my daily shot of caffeine. ‘What’s going on?’ Exclaimed Charlie.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You always know. You knew there was new, News.’

‘Well, er...’

‘I mean their whole tone has changed. Are they gunning for Buffy now?’

‘Perhaps getting ready to ditch him, if they really have to.’

‘And the whole thing is full of adverts for the Don’s new podcast come radio show come tv chat show thingy.’

‘Yes, I fail to see the visual appeal myself, the close-up camera merely exaggerates his existing camp tendencies.’

‘Women readers like him.’

‘Yes, I suppose so, the anti-authoritarian Aussie with a glint in the eye. Perhaps one day he’ll want you as a guest, you could broadcast live from the treatment room.’

‘Is Buffy really in deep doo-doo then?’

‘Well, timing is everything. As fear ends, so anger rises. You know, it’s when conditions start to improve, that revolutions traditionally happen. And perhaps the opposition think they have a limited window of opportunity.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, there are also lots of post-pandemic recovery goodies that may be just over the horizon. Coffee is ready then?’

‘Help yourself.’ And after a two mouthful pause, she asserted; ‘Well since I have the rest of the day-off, you can buy me a proper lunch at the Park, I’ll bring the car round.’

‘So, if this is to count as our hot meal of the day, I imagine you have cold snacks available for a supper at home this evening?’ I speculated aloud as we sat opposite each other in the club dining area awaiting our grub.

‘No. You gave me the day-off before I had a chance to go shopping, I’ve asked Steppings, to ask the kitchen, to knock-up a couple of packed lunches that can serve as supper.’

‘Also charged to my account no doubt?’

‘Naturally. We also need to be home by four, if Kenneth is going to get a decent tea break.’

‘Understood.’ Then my mobile pinged. ‘Someone else wanting a piece of me. Ah-ha, our man Jack is proposing to take an Awayday tomorrow to Birmingham to look at the remains of minibuses, wants permission to do deals and pay deposits if everything looks good.’

‘How much?’

‘Not how much, but what? I’ve offered him an architect’s drawing of a viable filling station electric forecourt extension.’

‘How innocent of me, to think that any cash might be changing hands.’ A sudden look of apprehension came over her face as she spoke, I concluded I must prepare for an assault from the rear.

‘We want a word with you two!’ So said the unmistakable Prudence.

‘Better draw up a couple of chairs then.’ She looked angry; Rory merely glum.

‘Everything is going wrong and it’s all your fault.’ So said our MP’s wife.

‘How so?’

‘The party is in chaos; in case you hadn’t noticed. Rory must decide which way to jump.’

‘But you’re a Buffy loyalist!’ I said, turning towards the aforementioned.

‘The PM may have broken all sorts of rules. My committee is uncovering all kinds of shenanigans.’

‘So?’

‘I don’t want to lose my bloody seat do I!’

‘You may have to.’

‘Why?’

‘You two really haven’t thought this through. You have no choice but to stick to Buffy like a limpet.’

‘Explain.’ Said Prudence.

‘Buffy will most likely get his mojo back and carry on to even greater victories, however, if by some quirk of fate, he fails, have you given thought to what he’ll do next?’

‘How is that relevant?’

‘Oh, dear. If Buffy fails, no matter how great his successor, you lose old boy. Look, let me spell it out, Buffy has no money of his own, his finances have always been chaotic, if he resigns, he’ll likely be holing-up at Carrie’s cottage and hanging around here all day. And everyone will know he lives in the very constituency which hosted his greatest triumph, or failure - depending on your point of view...’

‘Oh, my god. We’re stuck with him for ever!’ Cried Prudence.

As we drove back to the house Charlie said; ‘You can’t really know if any of your imaginings about the future will come true.’

‘No, but it’s better that Prue and Rory at least start thinking ahead, no good just hoping things will carry on as they were before.’

‘Besides, I bet you could remove Buffy from future involvement at the Park if you really wanted to.’

‘So, guess why I choose not to?’

‘There’s money to be made.’

‘Got it in one.’

Kenneth looked a trifle damp and care worn as we came through the back gate. He was leaning on a spade at the same time as extracting a bamboo cane from one of the cold frames, which turned out to be about three feet long. He grasped the bottom of it with the palm of his free hand. ‘Tea in five minutes, Ken!’ So said Charlie in a cheery voice.

‘Ah, you are kindness itself, my dear.’

Ten minutes later and we were all beginning to warm through.

‘Does the garden have any kind of gradient Kenneth?’

‘I think it must do, very slightly sloping away towards the back wall, the ground is damper there at depth, despite getting more sunlight. All the more reason to make all veg planting on raised beds.’

‘And the temperature below ground in the cold frames?’

‘All is as it should be in the garden.’ He replied looking vaguely into space. The three of us just sat there awhile in silence, me wondering what might be inside the two paper bags with handles that Charlie had casually placed on the kitchen table aside the tea pot. ‘It’s not the planet that’s in crisis, but the human race.’

‘Well,’ I said, raising my mug, ‘we can all drink to that, cheers!’

3: Tuffy and the female of the species

‘Morning, sir.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘He probably imagines himself in love again.’

‘Do you have an App for that?’

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

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

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

‘Follow my arse, twenty-four seven.’

‘I always have.’

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

‘I felt that.’

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

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

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

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

‘Gosh, well um, it’s hard to say...’

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

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

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

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

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

‘It was an instant click.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Who, she?’ murmured Charlie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘But, you sort of, like that?’

‘Not in public.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘All’s fair in love and war.’

‘First we try, then we trust.’

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

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

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

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

‘Dining in tonight are we?’

‘I am, are you?’

1: Charlie takes charge

Now then, touching on the matter of young Sparkwell, my PA, where do we stand? Some have gone so far as to assert that I’m totally dependent on her. Well, it is true I gave up trying to run my own affairs within weeks of her arrival. I’d only hired her for a few hours at the start, as a sort of physical therapist you know, but then somehow she seemed to be able to anticipate my every need.

It was one morning in spring that everything underwent one of those transformations that everyone talks about these days. I opened my eyes to find her standing over me. She was holding a class of water with a slice of lemon in it. ‘Drink this, sir. It will cleanse your system.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Dawn, drink it before going in the shower.’

‘I normally start the day with at least two black coffees, at about nine o’clock! Wait a second, how did you get in?’

‘I never left. I spent the night in the treatment room.’

‘In my spare bedroom you mean. But there’s no bed!’

‘I often sleep on my table.’ She turned to the mirrored wardrobe, slid open one of the doors and began to inspect the contents. I couldn’t help noticing, not for the first time, how her fitness trainer’s uniform showed off her undoubted - fitness!

‘Finish your drink, then into the shower.’ She asserted with crisp resolution.

‘I can’t, not whilst you’re here, I have an early morning erection, exposing myself would hardly be appropriate, as your employer.’

‘Glad to hear it, there is no natural reason why all men shouldn’t wake up with a stiffy well into their seventies. Pretend I’m not here, servants have been treated that way for centuries.’

When I exited the shower cubicle a short while later, still in a state of some arousal, she was standing there, holding my towel. ‘On reflection sir, a subservient relationship would not be therapeutic, since I shall be introducing elements of Tantra into the programme.’

Charlotte Sparkwell B.Sc. (32), graduate in Sports Science, qualified Yoga teacher and expert in Indian massage techniques, came to me on the recommendation of the employment agency. But as she stood there in the doorway the first time, holding her portable massage table, bedecked in various mobile devices and carrying a small knapsack, I realised we’d met before. ‘I say! It’s Charlie, one time waitress at the Harbour Cafe.’

‘Yes, well a girl has to make ends meet. Where shall I set up, sir?’ It seemed barely a matter of moments before she was sat opposite me, having left her shoes at the door, set up her gear in the second bedroom and returned with notebook, pencil and tablet in hand, announcing; ‘First it is necessary to do an assessment.’

‘Well the thing is, I know it’s all psychological really, there’s nothing truly wrong with me - my quack has told me as much. But pain is real, isn’t  it? I’ve just had a lot of aches and pains recently, muscular pain, difficultly relaxing, spent a fortune on talking therapy over the years, but that only seems to work for the duration of the sessions.’

‘Do you know from where your distress comes?’

‘Oh yes, my entire world, my pals and most of all my relatives!’

And so I tumbled out my woes for ten minutes or so, then she started to explain what she could offer. The body’s outer extremities, hands, feet, and face held the most nerve endings, were on a direct route to the brain and every other part of the body she explained, and you didn’t even have to take off your clothes. When I countered that it didn’t sound very scientific, she said she liked to stick with ‘heuristics’ since they could be instinctively understood by clients, something about ‘embodied cognition’ if I cared to look it up. ‘Touch has a direct line to the emotions, sir!’

‘Well, yes, there’s no denying that.’ I replied. There was something about this woman that I’d noted in her days at the café, but now close up, eyeball to eyeball as it were, became ever more apparent. It showed in the smile, a beaming intense smile, which at first one thought could never be maintained, but was. It had a hypnotic quality, and in its broadness seemed only just on the right side of madness. In other words she was brilliant, and isolated because of it. Or so I suspected. During our hour and a half or so in the spare room, she created the atmosphere of relaxation with convincingly eastern music and calm words, and delivered the most intense and thorough manipulation of feet, hands and scalp imaginable.

She visited twice a week after that. Worked me over, I relaxed and her touch did indeed seem to connect to all parts of the brain and body. Pain relief led to sexual arousal - which was okay apparently so long as I focused solely on the breath, watching it rather than trying to control it, and just ‘let go’. I was instructed to practice flexing my PC muscles. ‘Our aim is go beyond sex.’ That pronouncement came during the evening session before my unscheduled dawn awakening.

Still a little shaken from Ms Sparkwell’s sudden shift in behaviour I made haste for the kitchen as soon as I was dressed, unwilling to face the world unfortified. My favoured bread appeared to be missing. On closer inspection I found other items gone from the fridge and cupboards. I was about to call out, but the scent of this indecently healthy and fertile Cheshire cat told me she was already present.

‘I took the opportunity to detox the area, if you give me fifty pounds I can restock with more appropriate items before preparing a light lunch, say for one o’clock?’

‘I normally lunch at Crawford Park.’

‘I couldn’t recommend it, sir.’

I instigated a long pause. ‘Are you angling for a job Charlie? A relationship? Perhaps you’re just temporarily homeless?’

The smile was there again, but a little more relaxed around the edges. ‘I can get plenty of work; yoga teaching, sports massage, reflexology, whatever! But I could never afford to live in a place like this. All this space, the view. Sometimes I just want to be in the window and meditate for hours. But I can’t do relationships, I’ve tried. The thing is, what with the intimacy of what I do, I’m on all the fucking time. I just have to be in control, it’s the way I am…’

‘Okay, stop there, otherwise you’ll tell me too much. Anyhow you don’t know nearly enough about me yet. I think I know an answer, but I’ll have to think it through. In the meantime, here’s the fifty for the housekeeping. I look forward to lunch!’

‘Very good, sir.’ And with that, she was gone.

Reviewing the situation, I knew it could be made to work. There was a kind of understanding between us. But what might scupper it from the outset was the attitude of the rest of the world. At school, and later at university in the early Nineties, our lot were sometimes referred to, a little glibly, as ‘trust fund brats’, the assumption being that money was never a problem, that an endless supply was there simply by virtue of reaching adulthood. But for nearly all of us, we never had money as individuals, we were beneficiaries as children of the family trust, and as adults, trustees of the family trust. As older relatives died off, younger ones found themselves signatories to funds which brought with them responsibilities and liabilities as much as assets. The older members had the authority, but increasingly with age required more of the readies.

Contrary to popular opinion, we may be time-rich but we are never idle. Staying rich requires effort, spending money can be an investment or a waste. My pals and I are the Web generation and in this world the nerd and the geek rule! Understand that and you are half way there. The majority, in their post-modern politically correct bubble may regard us as outliers to be labelled somewhere on an autistic spectrum, but we know we are more sensitive not less, flooded with impressions of pain - and that is what gave me the edge in approaching an understanding of young Charlotte.

Lunch as I feared looked less than appetising, but when a chap’s gone without breakfast! ‘Aren’t you going to join me?’

‘I prefer to eat standing up.’

‘Bye the way I’ve decided you can live here, you can have bed and board and whatever cash 48 hours per week of the living wage comes to. On paper you’ll be my Personal Assistant, with this as your home address, but once the rent for a room in a place like this is worked out, income tax, national insurance, council tax, health plan, pension, six weeks paid leave etc. etc. The bit of paper you’ll get from the office will, if I’m any judge, show a salary not far short of 30k. What do you think?’

‘Parking?’

‘Actually that might be the trickiest to fix, I’ll do what I can.’

‘I’ll prepare today’s treatment.’

‘Oh! Charlie. One other thing, you must try to stop thinking of life as a series of puzzles, as a search for meaning, of why questions or mysteries; start thinking of it as a game, after all you already behave that way.’

The spare room was looking even more like a therapist consulting room. ‘I’ll require you to be naked from now on. I need to be able to fully monitor your responses.’

‘If this turns out at all sexual Charlie, I’ll only go along with it if you let me do something for you, reciprocity and all that, you’ll just have to make it bleedin’ obvious what you need, cause I’m a bit slow on the uptake sometimes.’

‘As you wish, sir.’