121: Wet weekend

‘I thought we were all meant to be taking a picnic.’ Said Charlie with an ironic tone as she stared out of the kitchen window at steady rainfall.

‘Not that you’ve made any preparations anyway.’

‘I ordered two packed lunches to be collected from the club en route.’

‘Of course. Still the forecast from my device is still saying sunshine and showers.’

‘Better make a move, it we’re to be at Ada’s in time for coffee. You’ll lock-up after me?’

‘Just hang on a sec whilst I find a bag to protect our copy of From Cattle Rustlers to Courtiers.’

We left the car at the club. The packed lunches and the book went in Charlie’s knapsack and we donned waterproofs from the boot. The soggy parkland shone bright green as the sky showed signs of clearing. ‘People are sleeping-out at Royal Oak now.’ Said Charlie.

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, there are a couple of sun loungers on the patio, if you have a sleeping bag you’re allowed to sleep out, tents are allowed too, provided they come down before breakfast. The house is strictly no alcohol, no tobacco, no drugs, so the garden can be a sort of reception centre when need be.’

‘Excellent. Right then, time to watch and learn, as the master does his work once more.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Ada was opening the door as we walked up her path.

‘I must say that Mr Brinkley of yours is an odd fellow.’ Said Ada, as we settled with our drinks in the lounge.

‘Yes, people often say that, still the signing went off without a hitch?’

'Oh indeed, but I’m still not clear why I had to go through the whole charade of appearing to represent your trust, rather than the railway?’

‘Credibility, legitimacy. Both the owner and the local authority preferred to see such a listed property sold to a rich organisation with a track record in restoration. As yet, the preserved railway is neither.’

‘But there’ll be some advantage in it for Tony, you can be sure.’ Asserted Charlie.

‘Such cynicism in one so young! No, we will carry the cost of returning the building to what it once was, then pass it on to the new railway. Should they have difficulty raising the cash, perhaps we’ll take it in increased shares.’

‘See what I mean?’

‘Well, you look out for yourself Charlotte. You can imagine what board meetings here at the Park are like, Tony and his uncle slugging it out, me thinking am I the only voice of common sense.’

‘Actually, Charlie has the advantage there, uncle thinks the sun shines out of her whatever.’

‘Anyway, Brinkley kindly made me a copy of the sale documents.’ Said Ada, reaching over for a file. She handed me the uppermost sheet.

‘Ah! Yes. I concede, that is a very competitive price. I owe you Ada. How may I be of service? Cash in hand? Perhaps I should be thinking of paying your club fees and account again next year?’

‘Well, I must give that some thought. Today, I confess, I’m somewhat pre-occupied with how much those of us at the bungalows can appeal to the generosity of the Park company regarding the internal restoration of the walled garden.’

‘Charlie! The book, if you please.’

‘Of course one has to ask how reliable uncle’s research really was, he never saw it in its heyday?’

‘Here we go.’ Mumbled Charlie.

‘We can settle this simply by considering the practical needs of those who will use it.’ Said Ada. ‘No one, is asking for heating in the greenhouse, nor any more water than we can carry. Although there is one principal, I think we must adhere to. We mustn’t allow people to become possessive and divide the whole area up as if it were allotments, otherwise the advantages of the soil and the micro climate at different spots will be totally lost.’

‘Agreed. And so, the practical issues are?’

‘Age and disability. We don’t want to lose the essential character but, no one, not even your ground staff, want to be constantly weeding paths. Nor do any of us want to be worrying about going up and down steps all the time.’

‘Yes. A permanent gravel coloured surface to the paths would be okay, though I think the location of the paths must stay, also the staggered steps down the centre. Perhaps a wheelchair friendly perimeter path, with a gentle gradient would work.’

‘Right, well for the rest of it, we’d better join the others.’

I was assured by Ada that the half dozen or so other residents who turned-out were the keen gardeners, those, who given half a chance, would be out here every day. The finished brick work looked most impressive, especially the greenhouse with the addition of the metal lattice work which would hold the glass of the roof and support the remote winding devices for opening and closing. I was able to show everyone a manufacturer’s photo of the windows, installed elsewhere up country. People were kind enough to say that at least they didn’t look like plastic windows!

I hope I didn’t end up sounding too much like a politician. But the questions came thick and fast as we sat on the steps consuming lunch. Giving an affirmative yes to every suggestion would have bankrupted us. I kept looking across at Ada, hoping what I said was broadly in line with what she already knew to be the limits. The whole process was quite cognitively demanding.

‘When everything is done Tony, do you think your people would go over everything once with their rotary cultivator, taking out obvious rubble, before you hand things over?’

‘Sounds sense to me Ada.’

‘There is the question of seating?’ Said another.

‘Ah! Yes, I should tell you that we are hoping, once a design is approved, to put in an order for perhaps thirty or so traditional park bench style seats for throughout the Park. We’re already thinking of one for your bus stop, as well as one for the stop at the main carpark. Perhaps we should earmark a couple for here too. Although of course that shouldn’t prevent you supplying your own, if they prove less than ideal. Though I think we should draw the line at sun loungers!’ That drew a mild titter from my audience.

‘Well, if that’s all the questions we have, may I offer my collective thanks to Tony for his generosity on behalf of the Park company.’

‘Well, thank you Ada.’ It was her cue for us to bugger-off, so we did.

On the walk back to the car Charlie asked; ‘Did Ada stiff you over the purchase of the station that never had trains?’

‘Not in the least, she went above and beyond, the final sale price was well below budget. I’ll use her services again.’

‘But surely you should be handsomely rewarding her now, not be in her debt?’

‘Not even if she enjoys me owing her?’

‘I don't get it.’

‘Power, Charlie, power. After all, one never knows in what form she might wish to be paid.’

At which point I was saved from even greater explanation by the ping of her work phone; ‘Cat’s back.’

‘Ah! A chance for a bit of a catch up then.’

‘There’ll be no time for that. He and I wilI be full-time on Pro-Am golf for the next few weeks. Especially with Dance Night falling on the final day. We’re hoping celebs will stop over for that.’

‘Oh my God!’

120: Spies r' us

Nothing much happened until we’d come off the M5, joined the M4 and were approaching our turn-off at the junction north of Bath. We were using number two car.

‘I think you have a tail, old boy.’

‘What?’

‘Been with us since Bristol.’

‘Well, I am cruising just inside the speed limit.’

‘Looks like a government car to me. I must say this extra mirror for the passenger side, is very good.’

‘Got it from an old driving instructor friend, years ago. However, time passes.’ I started fiddling with the dashboard computer controls. ‘There you go, rear view camera.’

‘Good lord!’

‘So, zooming-in on the number plate, now we just wait a second, there, on the side panel. Now that is one of the restricted codes, is that government? I know it isn’t the code for any of the police forces.’

‘Beyond me old man.’

‘Anyway, let us have a go at zooming-in for facial recognition. Well, blow me, we don’t need the database for that. I know him!’

‘You have some strange friends.’

‘Hark who’s talking! The last time we met, he was running security at Downing Street for one Buffy Trumpton. Acted as a bit of a mentor for Charlie when she was on the inside, during the global summit.’

‘But is he friend or enemy now, that’s what you have to ask yourself?’

‘Or, have he and his mate, just had the same invitation to attend a funeral as we’ve had?!’

As we entered the main village street at Chipping What Not, still being followed, there were vehicles parked all along the church side of the road. We were rapidly flagged down by Melisa, so darkly and formally dressed she reminded me of Charlie. She opened the door for Kenneth. ‘I’m under strict instructions to escort you around today, Ken. Tony, Dad says to drive on to the cottage, he’s reserved the second parking space for you.’

‘Will do.’

Barmy and I walked the couple of hundred yards to the church together; ‘I should tell you; Daphne is in agreement at last to go to your solicitors with her father’s Will, then we bring ours up to date, with trust or foundation arrangements for all our combined assets. Too much for Mel and Bel to handle right now, should disaster strike.’

‘And the cottage?’

‘We’ll hang on to it for now, make a nice holiday home.’

‘Like so many others, here about.’

‘Quite so, you may find Daphne on the war path about your mate Jack, she saw him in the news, no smoke without fire stuff, wondering why Melisa is negotiating with him for a car, Mel even said she quite fancied being a motor mechanic. You can imagine.’

‘Thanks for warning me.’

‘Are we the last?’ Barmy asked Daphne.

‘Last from the list, but there’s half the village in there too, they remember mummy, which is nice.’

‘Chin-up and best foot forward then Daph.’ I spoke.

‘We need to talk about Melisa, simply refuses to look at the universities. Unbelievable, a straight A student, talking about apprenticeships in classic cars, or social care courses for the shelter. And totally under the spell of you and Charlotte. Damn it Tony, we have to explain to the girls about the money within weeks.’

‘Well, she’s showing all the social graces today.’ I quipped, with no Charlie to restrain me.

‘Just, just get inside the two of you.’

As we walked down the nave, Ken seemed to be being acknowledged by many and was happily chatting away. I sat on one side of Daphne, Barmy on the other, whilst the girls twittered away to themselves. I said; ‘If you want to positively-vet Jack, just drop by the club. Henry Walpole successfully defended him about twenty-five years ago on a charge of handling stolen goods, he walked from the court without a stain on his character. It’s just our chief of police who never forgets and is forever thinking two plus two must equal five. And Fiona, our part-time Marketing manager, spends most of her time working for Jack as his front of house, receptionist and admin assistant, at his classic car workshop.’

The service got underway, it was all very right and proper. Significant others giving readings and what I took to be an ex-colleague, talking about a lifetime of public service. All devised by the old man himself, presumably. The tone didn’t change until the end, when the vicar invited us all to join in with the singing of Jerusalem. I was taken aback by the gusto of my fellow attendees as we belted it all out, so inevitably the service concluded with; ‘...In Englands green and pleasant Land.’

At the graveside I found myself in the second row, as it were, amongst a sea of strangers. Suddenly one of the men next to me said, in not quite hushed enough tones; ‘You are Anthony Arlington. My name is Casper Wieck.’

‘I’m sorry, have we met?’

‘You don’t recognise me, that’s good. You’re not one of us then?’

‘I don’t think so. Friend of the family.’

‘Still your face is familiar, never forget a name. Perhaps your file passed over my desk at some time. Retired now, can’t say I know what’s going on anymore. Still, you brought Murchison. How is the old rogue?’

‘He’s my gardener now.’

‘Good lord!’ Heads turned, he shut up.

As we moved on from the graveyard, I caught up with an only too familiar figure; ‘Nice seeing you again!’

‘How are you, sir? Sparkwell not driving you today?’

‘Well, it is only a two-seater and I’m here with another friend of the family. But then you’d know all about that.’

‘Word to the wise, sir. I think you’ll find people aren’t so much curious about you, but the car. Even more than your longstanding association with the secret state’s leading techno-head.’

‘Is that Barmy’s reputation these days?’

‘Very much so, sir.’

‘I suppose there’s no point asking what your job is now, or who you answer to?’

‘We get moved around, sir. Do give my regards to Ms Charlotte.’

Back at the cottage; ‘Thank God you’re here! I’ve no idea what’s going on.’ Said Melisa, sideling up.

‘Well neither have I!’

‘Yes, but you’re at least, normal.’

‘How’s Ken?’

‘Just got him a decent seat and a cup of tea. He looks knackered.’

‘I’m sure. Why don’t you give me a tour of the place, haven’t been here in thirty years.’

When we reached Daphne’s, Daddy’s study, Mel said; ‘The sanctum sanctorum.’

‘You might care to raid his library, don’t imagine your parents will be much interested. And of course, people traditionally love hiding vital and ancient paperwork between the pages of books. Anyway, your mother gave me an ear-wigging about you, seemed to blame Charlotte and myself.’

‘She’s mad. And something about Grandpa’s death has put her in a panic.’

‘Well spotted, look I might as well tell you, I’m not meant to know, but it’ll give you a chance to prepare yourself. Part of his Will jumps a generation, giving monies direct to you and Bel, when you each turn eighteen.’

‘Really? I had no idea. Is it like, a lot?’

‘By the standards you’re used to, yes; but in terms of the bigger picture, your father’s inheritance, peanuts.’

‘How do you know any of this Tony?’

‘I’ve known all the players a long time. Also, I’ve been keeping control of a family fortune out of the hands of others myself, for a very long time. So, to cut a long story short, work for Captain Bob, work for Jack, or both if you care to, just sign-up for a night school class in accounting, you need to know the value of money and it’s not what most people think it is.’

Arriving back in the front room, Kenneth declared; ‘We can go now Anthony. All’s done and dusted.’

On the road home Kenneth was quiet for a while. Then; ‘Well, that was enlightening, most instructive.’

‘It was?’

‘Oh, yes. All up to date now, fully briefed.’

‘You wouldn’t care to enlighten me would you, nothing much about today has made any sense.’

‘Oh, no. That would never do, need to know and all that.’

119: Sparkwell and the younger generation

Don Wooley’s manipulation of his own profession was a joy to watch. On the evening of day one, it was regional news which led with Charlie’s pictures of police vehicles, sirens whining as they dodged early commuters and a voiceover saying; ‘The new Riviera Railway’s efforts to clean up the Bay Area were interrupted today by a police raid on the storage units of a prominent local businessman suspected of dealing in stolen goods. ...He was arrested but later released without charge...’

The following day, The Beacon ran a full-length feature article on the new railway itself. Included were side features on ‘old friends of this paper’; that well known legal eagle Henry Walpole and railway mascot Charlie Sparkwell clad in porter’s uniform! Also on day two, regional news reported on the reopening of the old garage at the Abbey station, explaining how it was returning to its pre-combustion engine role as a bicycle workshop and hiring centre which would also manage the bicycle racks for the station which now featured down the street side of the extended forecourt. The unveiling of the pre-war petrol pump was introduced as an emergency source of petrol for locals when normal supermarket sources inevitably moved to all electric. Jack unveiled the pump and explained the role of the new, old garage, graciously refusing to criticise the police when pressed by the media about his wrongful arrest the previous day.

Finally, the day after that, Charlie made it to the cover of The Beacon, not for the first time, with a picture of her cutting the ribbon at the new, green, old bicycle workshop.

Later that week we were enjoying tea alone in the kitchen, it being a non-Kenneth day, when Charlie, who had just returned from a rare shopping expedition to our great cathedral city, suddenly announced; ‘There’s a plot afoot, sir!’

‘What, a dastardly and cunning plot?’

‘You might think so.’

‘You’ve been listening to Archie Layton I wager.’

‘Not only that, I've been participating.’

‘How so?’

‘I think I may have been co-opted into the making of a conspiracy.’

‘Good lord! Though not if you tell me all about it of course, then it won’t be a secret anymore and therefore not a conspiracy.’

‘Well, either way, I walked into the bank at eleven forty-five and walked out with Archie fifteen minutes later en route to his favourite lunchtime haunt.’

‘The over-priced coffee emporium?’

‘Precisely so, as you might say. We had barely had the chance to sit down when in waltzed “young Benson” from Bernard’s office and after ordering God knows what, casually sat with us like he was expected.’

‘I see.’

‘There was a load of chat about how we must all be of a similar age, of having shared interests, of the need to stick together, claim our rightful inheritance, the moment being upon us, all for one and one for all!’

‘My word. And how are the three of you planning to overthrow the “ancient regime”?’

‘Well, it’s not so much an overthrow. Barney just thinks he’s being groomed by Bernard.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Barnabas Benson, thinks Bernard sees him as the heir apparent, in the fullness of time, when it comes to the Trust, the Park and the club accounts. There’s already talk of Barney sitting-in on Trustee’s meetings.’

‘I see. So, Benson is a Barnabas too, most confusing, what with Barmy Gruber being one as well.’

‘And that’s another thing, there have been overtures from the Grubers. Soundings taken about Barmy and Daphne moving their financial and legal stuff over to us at the old bank.’

‘Oh, good. That has been a scheme of mine for many years.’

‘And Archie thinks his next move, should be for him to join the club.’

‘Ha! He’s come around, now that is a sign of age.’

‘He wants you to propose him and then me to second.’

‘Hence, he’ll walk it. So, how do your fellow conspirators see your role in all this?’

‘Well, apparently I sit at the right hand of the prince of darkness himself, privy to all the secrets of the main man, the principal mover and shaker in the whole enterprise.’

‘Is that how they see me?’

‘It’s easier to accept you’re being out-smarted, if you think you’re dealing with the devil himself.’

'Well, well, well. So, my valet has reverted to being a varlet!’

‘What?’

‘When the French varlet first becomes the English valet, it was thought of as at best an unprincipled role, at worst blatantly dishonest!’

‘Ha, ha, ha.’ And after a pause; ‘So what do you think, should I play along?’

‘Oh indeed. I mean for your own sake if nothing else. The future of Royal Oak for one thing, you'll want a friend who can find you a prominent patron, plus someone else prepared to hustle for sponsorship deals and such like.’

‘That’s brilliant. But how much do I confide?’

‘You play both sides off against each other, me and them, as it were, then act purely out of self-interest.’

‘Which is what you’d do.’

‘Naturally.’

Then Charlie’s mobile pinged; ‘Oh my God!’

‘Yes, my child?’

‘No, shut up, this is serious.’ And after a pause. ‘It’s a message from Melisa. “Just to say I won’t be around for a while. Grandpa has just died and Mummy is giving out jobs and instructions to everyone about things to be done by yesterday.” Blimey!’

‘I’ll go upstairs, phone and try to speak to Daphne, I may be some time.’

‘That was a rummy conversation if ever there was one.’

‘How’s Daphne holding up?’

‘Fine for now, it would seem. Daddy's passing being somewhat anticipated apparently, not least by the man himself. The instructions referenced by Mel were issued by him.’

‘Are we involved?’

‘Yes. And of most pressing concern is that my name is on the list.’

‘The list?’

‘The list of those whom Daddy wanted at his obsequies.’

‘Are you going?’

‘Such is Daphne’s wish. Also on the list is one Kenneth Murchison. I’ve been deputised to deliver him, there and back, in one piece.’

‘Where is there?’

‘Daddy’s Cotswold cottage. Well, they always call it a cottage, but it is quite a substantial property. He had also acquired, many moons ago, a plot in the village churchyard for his late wife and himself.’

‘So, you’ve been there before then?’

‘Yes, a couple of times, with Daph in the old days. Nonetheless, she has given me quite specific instructions on the current quickest route to get there, and where the best comfort break, stop-offs are. She’s running a tight ship, one might say. We have also been instructed to stay for the wake, for an hour or so at the very least.’

‘All seems a bit over the top.’

‘Well, as Kenneth once said, she’s always been terribly loyal to her father.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Good question. Vague, evasive, but all wrapped up in a terribly pleasant and polite manner.’

‘Bit like Ken then.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he approve of you, as a suitable suitor for his daughter?’

‘Oh! I don’t know, I certainly could never tell.’

‘Who will be the other “invited” mourners?’

‘Apart from family, I’ve no idea. Could turn out to be something of a spooks and snoopers convention for all I know, I'd better call Kenneth.’

118: Busted!

‘Jack!’

‘Tony. Not seen you two at home before.’

‘Coffee all?’ Said Charlie, entering the reception room.

‘Thank you, my love. Some special occasion, is it?’

‘Indeed, it is. It’s time for you to go entirely legit.’

‘This wouldn’t be about the letter we received this morning, would it?’

‘Your noticed to quit. Four weeks.’

‘You think we should be thinking of disposal, rather than just moving on.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because good things will happen. And with you going, others will be encouraged to pull their fingers out.’

‘What good things?’

‘I'll come to affairs of state in the fullness of time. First and foremost we are going to create a publicity stunt, a good old piece of street theatre. A few of the great British public may notice your departure Jack, along with associated criminal elements, but then we need something to put a rocket up the arse of all the others who may be reluctant to make the time and take the effort.’

‘You’re beginning to lose me mate.’

‘We of the ER, R, require the whole of the old goods yard to be cleared as soon as possible. But we, are also acutely aware that for most of the town, it is, in its current state, their principal eyesore! The sight of old shipping containers, converted into storage units, stacked three high and painted bright blue, being removed will be the first practical sign of the new railway’s good intentions.’

‘Well, I can see that would suit you, but shifting some dodgy stuff takes time...’

‘Precisely, and the only thing that would really speed that up would be the imminent arrival of a dawn raid by the police, with the media close on their heels. News of our good works could not fail to reach all corners of the county, perhaps even the nation.’

‘And you could guarantee you’d wait for the all-clear from me before you tipped them off?’

‘Absolutely. And I’m pretty sure the Chief Constable herself would lead the raid.’

‘You don’t what to embarrass her too much, causing her to move on, or be moved on. Right now, Wainwright is the Chief Constable of our dreams.’

‘Understood.’

‘So just what is in it for me?’

‘Well, as soon as the yard is cleared and the railway has its sidings back, they can become home to our new battery-powered commuter trains.’ I paused to let my announcement sink-in.

‘You cunning bastard! That is devious beyond words.’

‘How come?’ So asked Charlie in all innocence.

‘The council have recently realised I pulled a bit of a fast one with the new filling station.’ Continued Jack. ‘We set-up to have enough poke off the National Grid, to be a much larger consumer than we’re actually likely to be for the foreseeable. They, don’t have the capacity for any of their green schemes and have to wait in the Grids upgrade bottle-neck queue, along with the rest of the county. There’s been pressure on me to voluntarily give up capacity... But we’re less than a quarter of a mile from Tony’s yard.’ Now he was smiling. ‘Green trains across the Bay. Fuck me, we’ve got’em all!’

‘I wonder gentlemen, might I be permitted to be the one to grass you two up?’ Asserted Charlie.

‘Why, ever?’ I asked.

‘Captain Bob is anxious we should establish cooperative relations between Royal Oak and the police. This way I could go direct to Sonia herself.’

‘Oh, well! Carry-on Sparkwell.’

‘Get in.’ Were the Chief Constable’s first words, according to Charlie.

‘No, this has to be a confidential walk.’

‘Oh, very well.’

‘Who’s he?’ Was her first question.

‘Inspector Dobson, Informal Economy and Cyber Crime.’

‘Blimey.’ And after walking a few yards, she began; ‘I'm worried about Tony, he seems to be getting more and more involved with Jack, our iffy second-hand car dealer.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘I don’t want him involved in the seamier side of things anymore. Anyway, I hear things. I know where Jack's so-called “lock-up” is and I know he has to move it all this week, he's had notice to quit.’

‘And you’re willing to volunteer this information?’

‘Yes, I know you can't offer me anything. But I needed to talk to you anyway, we, that’s Captain Bob and the committee at Royal Oak were hoping we could carry on the constructive relationship we had with you at the old homeless shelter?’

‘Ah. Now, tell me Charlotte, how is it whenever one talks to Anthony, he always manages to give the impression he's doing one a favour?’

‘Well, I don’t know...’

‘The last time we spoke he claimed Jack had good documentation to back up all the goods he has.’

‘Oh, it is good, but it is false. I’ve heard Jack say it’s okay at first sight, but wouldn’t stand up to proper investigation. And the goods themselves were nicked; they’ve just passed through a few hands since.’

‘Where is he moving everything to?’

‘Well, this is the thing, I don’t know, but Tony’s been urging him to dispose of everything, I was thinking it could be your last chance to nail him.’

‘Well, Inspector, what do you think?’

‘We have spent a lot of time and money on this guy, down the years, ma’am.’

‘Yes, so where is the lock-up?’

‘Its two of the old sea containers at the railway goods yard, 326 and 327.’

‘We need him there, in the act of moving goods.’

‘Could be any day in the next week, it might just be a couple of hours’ notice.’

‘That’ll be enough.’ Said the Chief Constable, with a faraway look in her eyes. Then, after a pause she began to wander away, saying over her shoulder; ‘Give my regards to Captain Forsyth when you see him next.’

‘She won’t sell many ice creams at that speed.’ I quipped without thinking.

‘Radio silence unless strictly necessary.’ Said Jack’s voice emanating from the dashboard.

I was watching Charlie with camera two, normally resident in the treatment room, but with the zoom lens added, recording the approaching motorcade. A moment later I said; ‘Three, two, one! The first vehicle has just turned off the main road.’

‘Okay. Wait for everyone to pass then get the hell out of there.’

‘Good luck Jack!’

Charlie was quiet until we were almost home; ‘Explain to me again why Wainwright won’t work out she’s been set up.’

‘Well, if you recall, at the time of the Great Crimean Gold Heist, she complained about having to deal with so much paperwork concerning our good selves. She said that you, despite having had a bit of a dodgy past, were nonetheless always trying to do the right thing! She believes you are acting in good faith; your information was good; you just couldn’t tip them off fast enough. I mean, if all’s going to plan right now, then Wainwright will believe herself to be but minutes too late. She’ll conclude you’re the innocent one, in all the whatever.’

Turning the station yard security cameras into a live feed had been a piece of cake for Fin Heptonstall.  Arriving back in the Media room, I started viewing the recorded takeout. The fact that one of the cameras now pointed directly at Jack’s containers, with enhance-able audio was neither here nor there. It was all plain to see, Jack emerging from one of the now empty containers, the arrival of the police, much conversation, the insistence on viewing the contents of Jack’s van, even the revelation of the only item of note – the nineteen thirties petrol pump due to be delivered to the new, old garage at the Abbey Station this very a.m. The icing on the cake came at the very end, the arrival of our friends in the media. I packaged it all up, added Charlie’s footage and emailed it all off to Don Wooley.

My favourite moment had come at the very end, when an unseen media voice shouted; ‘Chief Constable! Would you care to explain why you are arresting one of the Bay Area’s most prominent businessmen?’

‘No comment.’

117: The art of travel

‘I see, well that sounds most agreeable. I think I can say with absolute confidence that both Charlotte and I would be happy to attend, upon the morrow. Excellent, see you then. Bye.’

‘What have you committed me to, now?’ Said the voice over my shoulder.

‘Gore blimey! You never lose the art do you. The silent shimmer into the presence. That, was the Lady Victoria inviting us to combine an hour’s story-boarding and preliminary sketching with a dinner to follow, at what will forever be, in my mind at least, 221b, Baker Street!’

On entering the Tufnell residence however, all seemed changed. Reassuringly the seascapes remained, the walls had a fresh lick of paint though, and the watercolours themselves seemed better lit.

‘It’s the whole stairwell that’s been painted white and the skylight replaced.’

‘Ah! You must have been itching to do it for years?’

‘Well, yes, indeed... Tuffy! They’re here.’ Victoria called. We were invited into the ground floor front. ‘We’ve taken a leaf out of your own book, back to the original usage, as it were. I confess I toyed with the idea of reinstalling the service bells, but I doubt that would have been appreciated.’

‘Don’t, get any ideas.’ Said Charlie, leering in my direction.

‘Absolutely not. But then you anticipate my every need. Tuffy on the other hand...’ I registered a sudden Sparkwell eye-movement; ‘Old friend of my youth, how are you?’

‘Still not sure about it all, whether mother would have approved.’

‘Time moves on, take care of the living, aye?’

‘Yes, yes of course. Coffee, tea, something stronger?’

As polite afternoon tea chatter was fading, Victoria asked; ‘So, what’s this commission all about Tony? You said a nineteen thirties style railway poster, but what of?’

‘Well, I’ll leave you to it then, I’ll be in the Den.’ Said Tuffy, abruptly standing up.

‘Alright my own.’ And with that he was gone; ‘Isn’t he a sweetie?’

‘He means the attic, right?’ I asked.

‘We’ve done a bit of a turnaround in the rest of the house too. I’d quite imagined he’d want to take over his father’s study. But no. That is now my little artist's studio, whilst Tuffy has taken over the two attic rooms. At first, I thought he was just sorting, prior to a clear-out, but no he’s just reorganising a lifetime’s detritus.’

‘The attic was the play area when we were kids.’

‘Oh! Right.’

‘Then it became the dumping ground for all things not in use. I should warn you there’s a model train set in there somewhere.’

‘Oh my god! Talking of trains, I have on the side in the study, the studio I should say, Mr Tufnell’s railway books for you, as requested. But before you take them away, they may be of some use today. Also, as a prompt, I’ve brought up from the gallery the National Railway Museum big catalogue, index thingy of their poster collection. In fact, we might move upstairs now.’

‘So, you were about to fill me in on the background Tony.’ Said the Lady Vic after we’d made complementary comments on her new studio.

‘Well, obviously the idea, not very original I grant you, is to advertise the ER, R, the English Riviera Railway with what looks, at least, like a traditional screen-printed poster, but naturally available free in all legacy and social media formats. But it’s the sort of thing that would have to pass muster with the new board of the railway, so we just have a rough proposal. They might want to bring in professional artists, photographers and models, but we thought we’d just have a go, see how far we can get.’

‘Tony’s tailor thinks he can knock out a genuine looking GWR porter’s uniform to fit me, much to the same standard as my valette get up.’

‘Oh, I see! A series of posters with a pretty, loveable, cheery, female character.’

‘Well, actually I’ve only thought of one design.’ I conceded.

‘One fantasy you mean, shades of Buffy Trumpton’s night time scenarios perhaps?’ Chided Victoria.

‘Certainly not!’

‘I was at St. Hilda’s; we were only a couple of fields away; one did hear rumours.’

‘If it’s a fantasy, it’s subliminal, thank goodness.’ So asserted Charlie. ‘In fairness it was Daphne who cast me as the Valette. Don Wooley promotes me as a “fitness model”. Now it seems I’m being re-contextualised as a “poster girl”!’

‘You’re picking up all the gallery lingo then. I can see this is going to be two against one.’

‘Perhaps you’d be happier with Tuffy in the attic?’ This from the Vic, again!

‘No, no, I’ll stay and fight my corner. Actually, talking of St. Hilda’s do you remember a certain Bloomfield-Jones, E?’

‘Eleanor? She’s something in PR now, last I heard.’

‘Tell me, were she and I, ever friendly?’

‘Not that I recall.’

‘She’s becoming a non-executive director of the railway, like myself, but we’ve not met yet.’

‘So, she’d be passing judgement on whatever I come up with?’

‘I imagine so.’

‘So, let’s hear your fantasy, the full unexpurgated version, if you please.’

‘Well, the vision that appeared to me, was a scene at the Abbey station, appropriately restored of course, circa, say, late nineteen thirty-four. Imagine a world in which Cole Porter’s Anything Goes is still playing on Broadway, book by Wodehouse. Stanley Baldwin plotting, poised to return yet again as Prime Minster. A classic Manor or Castle class loco in the background, with first class carriages behind, an Up express of the holiday season. The foreground dominated by a female porter, uniform unbuttoned a little at the front perhaps, cap pushed back a bit and set at a jaunty angle, winking or grinning to camera. She leans on her trolley whilst one hand is outstretched to receive folding money as a tip passed from behind the back, by a gentleman, elegantly attired in pin-stripe and buttonhole, carrying on a conversation with his grand fashionable wife, the aquiline features of her profile...’

‘Wait a minute, wait a minute!’ Interrupted Victoria. ‘The smallest banknote in the thirties was a fiver, what are you paying this porter for? Perhaps you should be stuffing it down her front!’

‘Me?’

‘Obviously. I stopped you because you were clearly starting on a description of yourself married to Daphne...’

‘Ha! Old man’s dreams of what might have been.’ Mused Charlie.

‘You’re always complaining about me getting passed it, when in fact it’s all normal aging. Let me remind you, we’re all getting older at the same rate!’

‘Right, well let’s get on with it, if you’d care to strike a pose Charlotte.’ As she said this Victoria reached over and picked up her sketch pad and selected a pencil. ‘Yes er, okay but try pulling up that high backed chair as something to lean against, as if it were your trolley. Good, now hold that position for as long as you can. Quiet all.’

The silence held for a few minutes, apart from Vic’s scratching of course. Then Charlie whispered loudly in my direction; ‘We, sir, have become a parody of ourselves.’

I looked towards Vic; ‘Sorry, one can’t get the staff these days.’

‘Tony, be a love and go and remind Tuffy things will need looking at in the kitchen by now, there’s a good lad.’

End of season nine

116: Girl porter

‘I feel left out.’ So mused Sparkwell.

‘But you’re always at the heart of the action.’

‘I may be present, but mostly I’m observing your actions!’

‘But your life is busier and more demanding than mine.’

‘Precisely, sir. Such is the lot of the deputy-assistant-undermanager throughout history.’

‘It’s an age thing. I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.’

‘Be afraid, be very afraid.’ And after a short pause; ‘What I meant was this railway caper of yours, not life in general.’

‘Ah! Well, an idea did occur to me some time ago, but I’m not sure you’d approve, you’d be the ideal person to, but...’

‘What?’

‘That you should be the “face” of the English Riviera Railway.’

‘As in model?’

‘As in poster girl.’

‘But railways are kind of, boys’ toys.’ So said Charlie, tinkering with her coffee machine.

‘Yes, and that’s one of the things we just can’t get away with any more. Especially a project such as this, dependant as we are on lots of volunteers and community support.’

‘Oh no! Not another woman in a masculine role.’

‘Girl porter, the cheeky chappie, tripling her wages in tips. Traditionally, porters at mainline London termini made a very good living!’

‘This would just be for a photoshoot?’

‘Well, maybe a screen printed, nineteen thirties style railway poster too. Oh, and the occasional opening.’

‘Opening?’

‘Cutting of ribbons etcetera. The problem would be finding an authentic looking uniform...’

‘But my picture could end-up, anywhere?’

‘Well yes, once we become popular. Permission to invite Edoardo for a lunch at the club?’

‘Exploratory talks only, at which I’ll be present. And of course, there would be both one-off fees and repeats coming with wider exploitation.’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Dear lady, a pleasure to meet you again. You’ve been neglecting me; it must be all of twelve months.’

‘I’ve not had the chance to wear-out any of your clothes yet.’ Charlie replied.

‘Tony! Is this true? More evenings out, I think. More trips to fashionable locations.’

‘Eddie.’ He was clearly in Edoardo mode, playing up the Italian side of his descent, in what for him was definitely a posh location. ‘Been enjoying more trips to Gstaad?’

‘No, we don’t go back. You just need to see it once I think. Very generous client, but showing off. You, you buy me lunch because you want something, value for money guy, more equitable.'

Cockney Eddie was sensing fun, as well as the money. ‘Order whatever you feel you’re worth, my dear fellow.’

‘So, Tony. You’re still going for the short hair, rather than the distinguished grey, like myself.’

‘Charlie is fully in charge of matters of style and taste these days, if you want to get to me, you have to get to her.’

‘But we all have our little affectations, you go for the flowery buttonhole, I the coloured handkerchief in the top pocket.’

‘Tony has a scheme, Eddie! A project. In which apparently, I’m just the pretty face.’

‘Anthony, how could you!’

The next forty minutes or so, despite intermittent chatter, seemed to consist in me watching Eddie eat, whilst I picked at my food, under the watchful eye.

‘So, this project involves clothes for Charlotte presumably, otherwise why would I be here?’

‘You’ve heard of this idea of extending the heritage railway?’

‘Sure. So, you’ve got a finger in that now.’

‘In a very modest way, I’m no expert on railways, but it seems a good bet for a small investment by the Trust.’

‘Don’t fall for the false modesty, he’s in it up to his eyeballs!’

‘I am merely a facilitator.’

‘Okay, I believe you.’ He replied.

‘I had an idea that Charlotte should be the face of the publicity campaign. Now obviously everything is modelled on the old Great Western Railway, better known as just the GWR, but also known as God’s Wonderful Railway. I thought she could be a sort of mascot, the cheery porter, there to serve, but she’d need an authentic looking uniform, and maybe with your contacts, such as Sally, you could make that happen.’

‘But why?’

‘Well at worst for the money! By the way, I note that both Charlotte and I are currently significantly in credit with you. But really, I imagined you might find it an interesting project, something to grab your interest, something other than using up your semi-retirement hours doing routine repairs?’

‘You know, once I was thought of as one of the best, the finest stitching applied to the finest cloth. You could have offered me the General Manager, or at least the Chief Mechanical Engineer, the designer of fine locomotives, but no you come to me for the lowest of the low, the cheapest of workman’s clothes. Not even worthy of a silver railway pocket watch.’

‘I never had you down as a snob Edoardo!’

‘I’m not talking that kind of class, I’m talking skill, quality, expertise.’

‘But I am talking about skill, it’s a performance, an illusion, like your valet uniforms. In the act of creating a uniform to fit Charlie, you transform. A tuck here, a tuck there. Suddenly the figure hugging trouser and the not quite big enough waistcoat...’

‘Okay, enough of the mansplaining.’ Chipped in Charlie.

‘Well? You hesitate Eddie, not like you at all. There’s something else isn’t there.’

‘You know my doctor would be most disapproving of my diet today.’

‘Well yes, I can imagine.’

‘All my life I have strived for the good things. When you get them, the medical profession tells you it’s too late to enjoy them. Just watching you two makes me feel guilty.’

‘Yes, well, I must confess, were it not for the presence of Charlie I’d probably be joining in with you. I’m sure she’d be willing to take you on as a private client; relaxation, therapeutic massage, meditation, a little gentle yoga - you’d come away a man transformed...’ Eddie looked like he was about to choke on his jam roll and spray the finest cream custard over all of us.

After much coughing; ‘My life would be intolerable. Oh! No disrespect to you my dear. I’m sure you provide a valuable service to those willing to live in the modern world. You are Anthony’s, what’s the name I’m looking for, a new thing people are calling themselves, a “Performance Consultant”, that’s the one.’

‘Oh, yes. She’s definitely that, in all domains!’

Then Charlie suggested; ‘Let’s take our coffees in front of the open fire Eddie. Oh! I almost forgot Tony, the club sec said he wanted a word earlier.’

‘Then I’ll join you later.’ If Charlie had an intervention up her sleeve, I was more than happy to let her take point.

When I returned to the lounge they were gone. Charlie caught up with me as I was loitering around the entrance, trying to work out what action to take over the latest games room notice; ‘No Recreational Play Permitted’, a good joke, Cat’s work no doubt, but it really couldn’t be allowed to stand. Ah, well.

‘He’s in!’ She said without pausing, making strides for the car.

‘What did I miss?’

‘He just wants a cut of the action with the railway that’s all. I got him to talk about his childhood. He’s south London, right sentiment old boy, just the wrong railway, he’s the Southern, rival routes to the west country. Our Eddie, as a young lad, spent the swinging sixties spotting on Waterloo Station!’

115: The gift of Christmas

‘Pray silence for the Monarch of the Glen!’ Said the club secretary, tired and emotional as usual on Christmas Eve.

‘I say, steady-on old man.’ Replied Cat Mackintosh, as he rose to his feet. ‘I have to tell you I don’t have a title as such, merely an office. It’s been handed down for many generations now, but that’s just a convention, it doesn’t have to be that way. For anyone who’s curious may I refer you to Lord Lyon King of Arms. But my real purpose in speaking today is to introduce our guest speaker, a man who has become familiar to you all over the last year or so. Distinguished at the Bar, by his, well, lack of distinguished-ness! A man who throughout his career defended the unfashionable defenceless, and therefore has remained forever a junior barrister. I give you Henry Walpole!’

As the applause died down, Harry began; ‘Members of the jury, you have heard all the evidence set before you by the prosecution in this case, it now falls upon me... Oh I’m sorry, force of habit. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today... No, that’s how my father began all his speeches. Ladies and gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking... Well, I really can’t get away with that one! I know, how about. It gives me the greatest honour, to propose a vote of thanks to you all for letting me through the door. I must confess that throughout my humble career, I’ve been somewhat dismissive of institutions such as this. Dismissing them as full of status hungry social wannabes, who were really only there to cultivate connections either for the sake of getting more work or a better, richer, sort of client. Thankfully, you are a kind of corrective to all that, a counterculture perhaps, an antidote that provides a place to regain one’s sanity in a world gone mad.’

A low rumble of ‘hear, hear’ could be heard from the would be jury.  I was sat with Helene, whilst Charlie was paired with Walpole. ‘He’s quite a character in action, don’t you think?’ Spoke Helene.

‘So, I always imagined.’

‘Silence in court!’

‘Really, Walpole!’

‘My wife Helene, your Lordships, a stalwart supporter and companion down the years, but who really needs no support in this court of appeal. But to return to argument, these convivial surroundings offer a haven of peace as far in time and space as it seems possible to get these days from a country with twice as many people, and twice as many cars, plus four times as many pets as in my youth. And not a windmill in sight!’ Now the jury was starting to bang the table. ‘I must say the solar panels on the roof are very discreet. I know this because on days when I’m confined to home, I’ve discovered the club portal. The addition of drone photography, which complements the existing walk through the park and the three D, digital interior, offer, well, I hesitate to say it, but almost a meditative experience. I confess I’m often tempted to reach for a glass of the old cooking claret. And for one who started out in life in a vast, un-heat-able Church of England vicarage, where on winter mornings it was not uncommon to find ice forming on the inside of windows, both the virtual and real club are remarkably cosy. Life, throws together the most unlikely of characters and coincidences. I first appeared before you, as a guest of Don Wooley, who had been kind enough over the years to promote my notoriety by publishing somewhat lurid accounts of my more notable criminal cases. In many of these, I found myself up against a most disagreeable prosecutor who would insist, during regular breaks in proceedings, on telling me about the alleged activities of what he called his wayward daughter, described in much the same language he used towards the prisoner at the bar. I regret to have to tell you, that daughter was none other than your own Charlie Sparkwell.’ This brought forth gasps from the jury, and cries of ‘shame’. ‘I could go on and mention many of you, but I understand Christmas speeches are intended to be short. I shall end therefore, by simply confirming the rumour that I was that barrister, with the bad taste to attack the police evidence offered by one WPC Sonia Wainwright on her first appearance down the Bailey, now known to you all as Chief Constable Wainwright.’ More gasps from the jury. ‘Your lordships, ladies and gentlemen, please stand and raise a glass to yourselves, I give you, the club!’

I’d noticed Ada slip away from the table immediately the toasts came to a close. I found her sat by the fire. ‘I hope you realise you are sitting in a seat once occupied by a former Chancellor of Germany. I shall now sit here, where once a US president sat.’

‘How do you know? We were all banned from the club back then. And I was barely allowed outside my own front door!’

‘They needed our security cameras, they couldn’t shut me down, without shutting themselves down, happy days.’

‘I was rather counting on you being here today.’

‘You have something to report?’

‘What’s it worth to you?’

‘Ah!’ And after a pause; ‘When’s your membership renewal due, and the settling of your account, obviously?’

‘Couple of months.’

‘When it arrives, let me know, I’ll come over, pick up the chitty, and miraculously return within the hour with your new card.’

‘Umm. Not sure what I know is worth quite that much, yet. Is that how you got Walpole on side?’

‘Well, more Mrs Walpole to be precise.’

‘Oh! I was talking to her earlier, fearsome woman. Anyway, if you’re willing to do that I'll just keep going and we can argue about appropriate recompense at the end of it.’

‘You’re sounding like you know, you hold all the cards?’ I smiled.

‘My problem maybe persuading you though. Things only make sense with the right, historical mind-set. I didn’t get it, until on my second visit I inadvertently got inside the hotel on the other side of the Square.’

‘Go on.’

‘The existing railway owns and runs the passenger ferry and is responsible for the jetty. The local authority controls the riverside, there are two kiosks that need eliminating and the jetty has to go back to being adjacent to the booking office window in the outer end wall.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘Once upon a time, the whole layout of the hotel ground floor was orientated towards that booking office window. The lounge, bar, reception. The booking office had a telephone link direct to the signal box on the other side of the river, but most of the calls came from hotel reception. If you were sat in the right place in the lounge, you could see the comings and goings at the booking office window, the way across the square and around the inner harbour thingy for the hotel porter with a cadet’s trunk or first-class passenger’s luggage was obvious to see.’

‘Hotel was hub of the town; college, hotel, ferry, train. But surely the officer cadets had a halt of their own and a little ferry directly opposite the college?’

‘Only when travelling with other cadets with a barracks bag, holdall thing. Hotel was where parents stayed, where ward room etiquette was learned. The hotel is still the centre for the council, local business people, the people you need. Cars and buses take them around the houses, spoil the view, to destinations only occasionally desired.’

‘You’re telling me, getting the town on side is more important than the cost of the building?’

‘Put the building back to what it once was, you put the town back.’

‘I’m paying you for information, not for getting the building at their price to you!’

‘Maybe in the end it’ll all be one and the same thing.’