146: Back to school

No one thought the boys would get away with it. No one from the headmaster upwards. The railway was sympathetic, and in the end went along with the lads wishes, but Walpole had visions of having to fight for it in the courts for years to come. But there we were, guests of the school, at the end of a school day, parading on the cricket field, there to witness the opening.

The new track had been laid a couple of weeks before, the replacement fencing gang soon caught up, but then came the debating, boys and railway volunteers insisting the ‘right of way’, long evidenced on old maps, must be levelled by using old wooden sleepers. Then the issue of the wooden kissing gates, wouldn’t they prevent bicycles being used? They would, but you can’t have it all.

In truth there was more to it than male enthusiasm for the view from the cricket ground. The reinstated short-cut gave easy access to the suburbia spreading ever outwards from the old market town, posh enough housing from which aspiring parents could send their offspring to the local private school. The day’s events had been preceded however, I was reliably informed, by a series of stern lectures from the headmaster himself on lineside safety and the placing of authentic looking noticing in apposite locations. Indeed, it wasn’t long after we’d arrived that my presence was spotted by the aforementioned. ‘Good afternoon, Headmaster.’

‘Arlington, here with your companion?’

‘Yes sir, she’s amongst the crowd, hoping to capture behind the scenes photos for The Countrywoman magazine.’

‘Might that involve some free publicity for us?’

‘Absolutely. The readers are your kind of parents?’

‘One would like to think so. After all, we’re being forced upmarket due to the taxes imposed by this government and the latest cost of living crisis.’

‘The kind of parents with the kind of boys impressed by a steam railway crossing the view from the boundary?’

‘We upgrade or die. Once the bursar was obsessed with mentioning IT on every page of the school brochure, now he slips-in the words traditional, conservation and heritage at every opportunity.’

‘Well, these days IT and heritage do rather complement each other, now speed is no longer of the essence.’

‘I’d never thought of it like that.’ As if on cue, a distant steam whistle could be heard. ‘So, what have you laid on for us?’

‘Well, I know what was planned, whether it will materialise I’m not at all sure. There is a strict weight restriction on the branch line river bridge leaving the town at the moment. And of course, as part of the deal with so called Great British Railways we had to cede control of signalling to Swindon of all places.’

‘Good lord! Still, I hear work on the bridge is proceeding apace.’

‘Indeed, managed to bounce the Environment Agency into action by having our own dredger on site inside three days. Ten days later the inspection of the base of the pillars was done. They were fine of course, but what wasn’t anticipated was the amount of silt we ended-up shifting out to sea. It seems by doing just that small section it has changing the course of the river downstream.’

‘My word!’

‘Yes, word has it that the draft that can reach the old town quay has increased considerably, the pleasure boaters are ecstatic...’ Suddenly it seemed the whole crowd before us were elated too, pupils and hangers-on. Cheering followed by applause, as the single coach with the little tank locomotive behind, hoved into view before coming to a halt just short of the new crossing.

‘It’s the real thing!’

‘Naturally, a genuine Great Western push-pull unit, a 14XX class loco preceded by an auto coach. Quite fragile these days, so normally only on static display, but for a special occasion, and a photo opportunity.’

‘Oh! You’ve done us proud.’

‘Do my eyes deceive me Headmaster, or are the girls as enthusiastic as the boys?’

‘I do believe you're right! I must be careful what I say, but that does seem a little suspicious to me.’

‘Boys and girls are different you mean?’

‘Yes, the girls have been a great source of concern of late.’

‘Really?’

‘We foolishly allowed a referendum over uniforms; the girls voted overwhelmingly for skirts! There are light refreshments to be had in the cricket pav, walk with me a moment my dear fellow, and I’ll explain all.’

‘You intrigue me strangely.’

‘Libraries become over time, great betrayers of the past. Is Ronald Searle a name to you?’

‘Of course, a true hero, survivor of the Japanese war camps.’

‘Exactly! The first thing you mention is the camps; the rest of his life cannot be fully appreciated unless you understand that.’

‘Agreed.’

‘A few years ago, a girl came across a volume of Searle’s collected cartoons in the library, the book circulated like wildfire, memes were unleashed. In the end I was forced to confiscate it. But I noticed it was a first edition, with a signed inscription by the author, enquiries were made, it turned out it had been donated by the boy who had solicited it, when he left the school.’

‘A valuable item.’

‘Indeed, so much so we put it in a display case in the hall alongside our other memorabilia. Alas, unintended consequences again. It has become something of a shrine.’

‘Dedicated to the goddess St. Trinian no doubt.’

‘Oh dear, I see Ms. Sparkwell has moved on to snapping the girls lounging with their elbows on the new fencing, I wonder if that’s wise?’

‘I can keep such pics out of the mag, if they turn out less than tasteful, sir.’

‘Would you? It’s just that, you can be sure every last one of those girls has made a close study of your companion’s podcast!’

The following day I was going about my early morning routine as usual, upstairs in the media room, pre-coffee as it were, when Sparkwell silently shimmered into the presence. With the absence of post on most days, she’d taken to delivering, on her silver salver, a bottle of the Crawford Park spa water, along with a gleaming clean glass containing a slice of fresh lemon. This meagre refreshment was intended to sustain me until eleven o’clock! Still, I appreciated the clink of glass on glass and the clunk of glass on silverware.

‘Frau Gruber has invited herself for morning coffee, sir?’

‘And what does she want?’

‘She did not confide in me, sir, merely enquired as to whether you were at home.’

We all assembled in the reception room at the appointed hour. After slightly perfunctory greetings, Charlie said; ‘Coffee?’

‘Wait a moment Charlotte, if you would. I’ll come straight to the point, Wieck is dead.’

‘Good lord.’

‘Blimey!’

‘Happened some time ago apparently. I was only told about it last week, a day before the funeral. Died at that awful flat of his, in a big old house just off from Worcester Shrub Hill station. Place used to be full of hippies as I remember. No accounting for taste.’

‘You were in the habit of visiting?’ I enquired.

‘Cover for Daddy, young niece being accompanied on visit to kindly uncle.’

‘Ken said once, the best assets are often quite unaware of what they are.’

‘Knock it off. The thing is, they’ve asked me to take over, as go-between, in whatever this business is you have with the security services, Barmy approves.’

‘I see.’

‘The message is, you’ll receive a package in the next few days, bundle of A4 paper. Once you’ve digested the documents, I’m to set up a meeting, somewhere neutral, somewhere secure. I’m told that if you’re content, you’ll hand over, whatever it is they can’t get their hands on.’

145: Electric diner

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, as Charlie veered off the usual route to the Park.

‘Jack’s.’

‘But you filled-up a couple of days ago.’

‘I know. But there have been developments, and I need to show you.’

‘You could have just told me.’

‘Well, no not really. You rely too much on me you know. When it comes to the filling station, the classic car workshop, Jack’s other nefarious activities, Fiona, even Mel these days.’

‘You’re my eyes and ears Sparkwell, give me details.’

‘In case you’ve forgotten, sir, the deal was, all those years ago, that I take care of the car, singular. In exchange for free use. What you neglected to explain, was just what your relationship to Jack really is. I really don’t know, what you need to know. But I do know you need to see this.’

‘Yes, you’re quite right, as usual.’ Having parked in the car park we sat and stared. The name above the entrance to what I still think of as the new pay point, come shop, come cafe and comfort break area at the filling station, had changed. Somewhat larger, and now a flashing neon sign, it read Electric Diner.

‘Very American.’ Was her only comment.

‘But at least it’s not on the roof, projecting to the sky. That would have required planning permission one assumes.’

‘Come on.’ Said Charlie, making to exit the vehicle.

‘There’s more?’

‘Of course, the whole interior is made out like a diner.’

‘You’re telling me Jack has forked out for a full interior redesign just a couple of years after the original was built?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Didn’t come to me for the money!’

‘Maybe he’s doing better than he’s letting on.’

Whilst the pay point and shop looked substantially the same, the cafe area was altogether different. We took seats at the counter.

‘What can I get you folks?’

‘Blimey!’

‘I say!’ I added, as a uniformed Melisa smiled upon us. ‘Still Jack’s general dogsbody I take it?’

‘No!’

‘Skirt’s a bit short.’ Said Charlie.

‘I’m just here for ten days, overseeing the opening, I’m Jack’s right hand these days.’

‘Masquerading as a waitress in a burger joint. Anyway, what do you recommend?

‘Double cheeseburger with extra fries, a tenner each.’

‘What!’

‘Proper big buns, hand-flipped hamburgers.’

‘Flown in a new short order Chef from Vegas, has he?

‘No, same staff.’

‘Still must have cost a bit.’

‘Jack says the filling station is a profit centre.’

‘First in a thousand years! Two coffees, thank you.’

After we’d had a chance to take in the ambience for a minute or two, the truth suddenly dawned. ‘I know where he’s got this from, Eltham.’

‘How come?’

‘He’s been roaming his social media, picked up what’s been developing with recharging for Makepeace’s US EVs.’

‘Well?’

‘There’s three or four now, combination drive-in, or drive-by, rechargers plus burger joints and cinemas, all retro nineteen fifties style. You park, plug-in, order a meal from the car, it’s delivered to you as you watch a movie on the big outdoor screen.’

‘And pay from your device, presumably.’

‘Of course.’

After a few more minutes Mel returned; ‘Sure I can’t get you anything to eat?’

‘No, I have to keep a tight rein on Tony’s appetites.’

‘So, what are you saying Mel, Jack’s training you up as some kind of personal assistant?’

‘Thinks I’m management material. Good at reading people, seeing opportunities for what they are. He also, well, I think he’s sees how you and Charlie operate and...’

‘He’s older than I am! And he’s been married to his childhood sweetheart for over forty years.’

‘I didn’t mean like that, what do you take me for?’

‘He knows Mel, he’s deliberately misunderstanding, he can’t help himself.’

‘So, does he want you to sell cars, or be a female enforcer perhaps?’

‘I don’t know, all I know is it works, I sort of gather information in, and he says he can think aloud when I’m around, bounce ideas of me.’

‘Oh well, if you’re that important, you should be able to name your own price. Anyway, onward and upward, Charlie we must hit the road.’

‘Might see you later then Tony.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, you’re off to your secret session with Tim, aren’t you?’

‘Not so secret it would seem.’

I went in search of George, our senior grounds person. For although I sort a private consultation with Tim, I’d no intention of queering the pitch for him. He was after all, a student under George’s supervision. I found him sitting on one of the new, old-style park benches, on the far side of the pond, finishing his tuck. ‘Afternoon George.’

‘Mr Arlington, sir.’ He said, doffing a non-existent cap and rising to his feet.

‘Oh, lord. Not you as well, I get enough of that from Sparkwell.’ I said sitting down.

‘But you do deserve respect, you found these benches, they’re actually comfortable to sit on!’ Now he sat back down again.

‘Thank you. Cost a fortune though, we must devise a way of doing our own repairs in the fullness of time.’

‘We have some wood set aside from the new water pipe business, I’ll keep an eye out. Now then, you’re here to ask me about that young Tim, am I correct?’

‘You are indeed.’

‘Soon as he mentioned he was doing your garden, I thought, hello! Not like we’ve had students before.’

‘Well, how’s he doing?’

‘Fine. Good worker, I’d give him a job. But he, has ideas.’

‘And that’s bad?’

‘No, but he’s no Joseph Paxton, is he?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, we must remember Paxton was only twenty-three when the duke offered him the position of Head Gardener at Chatsworth.’

‘Yes, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re half the size of Chatsworth.’

‘But the house is a similar age.’

‘Oh, I get it. You like him because you, think he’s like you.’

‘Where is he by the way?’

‘Chatting up the old biddies in the walled garden.’

I stood a moment, half shielded by the iron work of the gates. Tim was demonstrating something about digging to a group of our bungalow residents. Either that, or it was their way of getting someone else to do the work. Enough I thought and strode forth. ‘Afternoon all!’

‘Afternoon Anthony.’ Said Ada.

‘I need to borrow young Tim here for a few minutes I’m afraid.’

‘You will bring him back won’t you, we’re learning ever so much.’ Said another.

‘Of course.’

Once out of earshot, behind the wall where the lean-to potting sheds used to stand, I asked; ‘Did you get the package?’

‘Yes, I’ve made a start, fascinating read, I hadn’t realised your uncle was really such a distant relation of the original earls.’

‘I was hoping it was the details of the original parkland and gardens that would fascinate!’

He laughed; ‘They do sir, honestly, it’s just, well as the title says, “Cattle Rustlers to Courtiers”, the occupants are intriguing. All my ancestors seem so deferential, even some of the living specimens...’

‘Quite, now then, lets walk. My uncle’s scheme always was restoration, the club, the spa, conference facilities, merely a means to an end. The walled garden, a case in point, a reasonable compromise provided the users don’t develop an allotment mentality. The expansion of the golf course to eighteen holes, an opportunity to reorientate the entire place back to what it once was, a house and park with uninterrupted vistas all the way to the sea. Unashamed anti-modernism if you will, big C conservation and not a windmill in sight. Would your lecturers approve?’

‘Probably not. But you’ll get no objections from me.’

‘Good lad.’

144: Interrogation

‘What are we doing today?’

‘I don’t know. Anything in The Beacon?’

‘No.’

‘Now, let’s see.’ I said, looking at my watch and draining my coffee mug. ‘Might as well drift towards the club.’

‘That’s your answer to everything isn’t? We could go anywhere in the world, but no.’

‘But the club is the centre of the world, the world comes to us.’ At which point the doorbell rang. ‘That's odd, something’s happening.’

Charlie sprang to her feet but was back within a second of looking at the monitor; ‘It’s Casper, what’s his face?’

‘You mean Casper Wieck, with a V.’

‘What do I do? He looks a bit frazzled.’

‘Right, er. Be suspicious, ask him what he wants. Er, give me a two-minute head start. The objective is to get him into the media room. I’ll check the cameras, open the channel to Barmy.’

‘Press the panic button.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Good day to you Ms Sparkwell.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I need to speak urgently with you and your, partner.’

‘Yes, but what about?’ She said, making a show of looking up and down the street.

‘Matters of national security are at stake.’

‘Oh, well, you'd better come in then.’

They moved out of shot, but I still heard a bit more of the now fading audio from my seat in ‘command and control’.

‘May I take your hat and coat?’

‘Yes. Might I use your facilities? I’ve been on the road for some hours.’

‘It’s up the stairs I’m afraid, I’ll show you the...’

‘In here Mr Wieck.’ I said standing by the window, making subtle adjustments to the blinds. ‘Do take a seat on the old chaise lounge.’

‘I see.’

‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’

‘You’ve got cameras everywhere!’ He declared, cautiously sitting down.

‘No recording, no talk I’m afraid. I take it you’re wearing a wire. You did say matters of national security.’

‘I see. Ms Sparkwell has legal control of all Murchison’s property and possessions; we require the immediate return of all government property.’

‘Who is this we? I see no police vehicles in the street, nor any unfamiliar unmarked cars for that matter, apart from your own. You aren’t brandishing a court order, correct? It seems to me you’re merely a long retired former employee of Daphne’s late father. Besides, I am not aware of anything that might be described as government property amongst Ken’s stuff. Charlie?’

‘Nor am I.’ She’d now swung her executive chair around to stare directly at Wieck, whilst I’d returned to mine, but with half an eye on the screen.

‘You know perfectly well to what I refer.’

‘You’re thinking of these.’ I said as I put up scans of the two passports, full screen on my large wraparound.

‘Good god!’

‘I’m reliably informed they are genuine Swiss passports, real numbers, real names.’

‘None the less, I must insist on the immediate return of the originals.’

I paused, waiting for more. ‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘And in exchange you are offering us...’

‘Nothing!’ He looked genuinely confused.

‘Oh dear, oh dear me.’

‘You’ve upset him now Mr Wieck, he believes in reciprocity.’ Said Charlie.

I flicked another switch, suddenly Barmy appeared on the rest of my screen.

‘Good lord, is he, is this live?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Be reassured, he’s not appearing from the heart of your old HQ, but he can green-screen some very clever backgrounds these days, he’s fully kitted-out since Daphne allowed him in from the cold, from the garden shed you understand, he has the whole of the back bedroom to play with now.’

‘I’m not authorised to make deals Mr Arlington.’

‘No, I imagine not. And it doesn’t occur to you what we, well myself to be strictly accurate, might desire?’

‘No. Besides, the passports are no use to you, now you’ve copied them.’

‘Aren’t they?’

‘I’m not at liberty to add anything.’

‘Well, we can come to that later. Tell me, is this a private enterprise on your own behalf Wieck?’

‘What can you mean?’

‘Trying to save your reputation, or protect others, some almighty balls-up years ago, a last desperate attempt to get the toothpaste back in the tube before you pop your clogs?’

‘Most assuredly not!’

‘So, it is something that’s still live, something official, or an official embarrassment involving others?’

‘I cannot say.’

‘Is that because you are just, small fry, a cog in the wheel?’ He paused, seemingly running out of steam. I continued; ‘You’ve waited over a year to come and see us. Now what does that imply I wonder? All the legal stuff was tied up six months ago. Perhaps you've been investigating us, what have you managed to find out?’

‘I can assure you, nothing that’s not in the public domain.’

‘I seem to be doing all the talking Mr Wieck, is that usual with interrogations? I admit I’m rather new at this game.’

‘I was warned about your wit.’

‘Is Casper Wieck your real name?’

‘Of course!’

‘Not a work name, such as my parents appear to have had?’

‘I could not say.’

‘What are you meant to do with the passports, burn them?’

‘No. They will go to the relevant authority.’

‘Of course, because you don’t know much do you. You know what I think Wieck, you coming here, is their last throw of the dice. You come alone, unprotected, to throw yourself on our mercy, I think they need me. I think I’m the only one with even the remotest chance of recovering the real prize, property, cash, any assets held by the Swiss. I think whatever cosy arrangement that allowed for the obtaining of real passports with which to fake an identity, expired decades ago. But assets, sat in a bank... ‘

‘What do you want Arlington, what’s your price damn it?’

‘Oh, I’m coming to that. But first you must realise that for me it isn’t about money. It may be for your lot, but I’ve had access to all the wealth a man could possibly want for decades. And yet, look around you, a four-bedroom villa and a couple of sporty cars.’

‘Two!’

‘Yes, almost identical. And, of course Charlie and I have a track record as responsible subjects of the Crown. Look on the wall Mr Wieck, commendations from the local constabulary, for recovering and returning crown assets in the matter of the last of the Crimean gold. What I want, is the one thing I don’t have.’

‘Well?’

‘I’ve been an orphan since the age of twelve.’

‘We played no part in that.’

‘Yes, I came to that conclusion myself some time ago. But what I want Casper, is to know my parents. I’m in late middle age, my childhood appears in uninvited memories, with ever greater clarity, with every passing day. And I’d rather like to know why Daphne’s daddy and Kenneth Murchison thought I might as a young man, become an asset of some description to the secret world. There’s something called the ‘thirty-year rule’ is there not? I even have a good degree in history from one of our older universities, I could almost be passed off as a legitimate researcher, at a push.’

‘Yes, yes I begin to see.’

‘Here’s my card, if you give us warning next time, you might receive a warmer reception.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Comments, Barmy?’

‘Just that I see no reason to share anything I’ve learnt today, for now at least. I’ll lock it down and back it up. We have our own channel Casper, Tony and I. We are our own server, so to speak.’

When he was gone, Charlie appeared with the pair of tweezers from her bathroom kit; ‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘I’m going to extract all those photos from the gunk of Ken’s old plastic album. As you said back along, there’s bound to be some info on the back of them.’

143: Road to nowhere

The new year may start slowly for some, but for us it had a vigour, not to say a vim. So far, my role within the new, old railway, had been one of facilitation and enlightened self-interest. Now, with more disruptive works coming, I needed to assert myself more. Any public discontent would not be ameliorated by consultation, only by practical evidence of improvement. Setting the right tone, the psychology of our restoration if you like, was paramount. As a non-executive director, I normally attended all the meetings that now took place in our boardroom at the Abbey station. But then came the day, when all the other board members foregathered without me, in expectation of watching a televised news conference, which they knew would happen, but which the rest of the county and the nation, most assuredly did not!

Charlie was driving me to this media event, which was being held at the headquarters of the national park, located in that modest town which serves as the main southern gateway to the Moor. On the way we were held up by traffic lights, due to restoration work underway at the town’s old railway station, the principal stop on the line to Morestead. Part of the works involved actually narrowing the road, Walpole having achieved a major coup by establishing that fifty years ago the local authority had acted illegally by pinching a three-foot-wide strip of land from the old British Railways.

Just as we were creeping forward, thinking these lights will change again any second, our dashboard screen sprung alight; ‘Blimey!’ Exclaimed Charlie.

‘Here we go, here we go, here we go...’

‘Shut-up!’ She said as we just escaped on amber. Then on the screen I could see a police patrol car appear from behind a hedge and take up position, up our arse, so to speak; ‘What does he want?’

‘Well,’ I speculated; ‘They’re not flashing at us, perhaps they’re here to escort us.’

‘There will be loads of VIPs, you’ll probably be the dodgiest one there.’

‘Quite. And we should be mindful of the fact this may be Sonia’s last chance, to have a go.’

‘Are you worried?’

‘Barmy and I have had contingency arrangements in place ever since he started doing government work.’

After being waved into our allotted parking, there was an almost immediate tap on the driver’s window from a suit, and as the window descended, so did a smiling face; ‘Charlie! Great to see you.’

‘Oh no, not you again.’ I groaned out loud.

‘Back by popular demand, with royal protection, sir. I’ll come round and escort you in.’

‘It’s because he’s an ex-marine.’ She said in our last moments of privacy.

‘I didn’t know that.’

On our way into the park authority building, security said; ‘The national park are hosting today, at your suggestion I’m told, so you’re alongside HRH as the major landowners, but slightly off to one side. The minister is the only speechmaker and the press haven’t been briefed, so questions will be limited. Speak later.’

‘I understand you are old friends, Anthony.’

‘In a manner of speaking, your royal highness.’

‘He’s back at the wife’s insistence, must be glad to be shot of the politicians. Be my feed when you think I need it. How’s Charlotte?’

‘Fine, in amongst the press, using the Trust’s mobile to take background pictures for The Countrywoman, but under embargo until after Kensington Palace, of course.’

‘Thank you. You’d be surprised how many Duchy farm kitchens have a copy of that mag open on the table.’

‘May I pass that on, sir?’

‘You may.’

The nation’s transport supremo could be seen bustling through the melee towards us; ‘Your royal highness. Arlington, I want you to know I’m only going along with this because Brenda has me by the balls!’

‘Brenda Radnor, sir. Our local MP, and the minister’s new PPS I understand.’

‘How I’m supposed to square this circle I don’t know.’

‘I find just sticking to the speech as written usually works.’ Said HRH with a glint in the eye.

‘Your Royal Highness, ladies and gentlemen. It is highly appropriate that today’s announcement of government investment should be made from the headquarters of the national park, located as we are in the town which will see the most immediate benefit. And alongside the Duke of Cornwall, Anthony Arlington, together representing the major landowners involved and whose cooperation has made today possible. For I can tell you now, this county will see, the completion of its motorway all the way to its western border. Detailed printed plans will be available after I have spoken. Over the next twenty-five years, with great care and sensitivity to the current and future needs of this rural environment, plus the need to correct the mistakes made when the current dual carriageway was constructed, the economy and environment will be enhanced. Within weeks work will begin on this short section, before moving east towards your great cathedral city. Let no one be in any doubt, the widening will be to the south side of the existing road. The eastern end will be elevated to allow a bridge over the new, old railway. With proper earth embankments, with tree cover, and the bridge constructed from the same stone as the original railway, from a disused quarry on Duchy land, allowing it in turn to be flooded and a wetland conservation area created. The current gateway junction to the Moor, will be reversed with the carriageway on top, the access roads underneath. With the growth of electric vehicles, noise and air pollution will take care of itself. The rainfall from the road itself will be collected to create new wetland conservation areas. The modifications to the road’s route will allow the size of the national park to increase, with all the protections for the environment and communities that affords. Access to the temporary roads required for construction will be given to the railway too, allowing ballast, sleepers and short rails to be delivered, the trialling of dual construction, cost-saving techniques for the more challenging work coming later to the east. Within weeks of the bridge’s completion, train services will return to this town...’

Once it was all over, with HRH gone skyward, the minster off with a police escort to the next stopping train with a first-class carriage, the national press in the car park searching for a decent signal, I wandered back towards our vehicle. I was met by the sight of Charlie leaning against the car, arms folded and looking decidedly miffed. I assumed, because she was being blocked by a police patrol car beside which stood none other than the Chief Constable herself.

‘Home Sparkwell and don't spare the horses.’

‘Not so fast Anthony.’

‘Sonia! Couldn’t resist a last fond farewell? Congratulations on your retirement, today your last public appearance?’

‘Next week, actually. But you, are going to be seeing a lot more of me in the future.’

‘Excellent! Your place or mine?’

‘I could impound this vehicle.’

‘Really?’

‘Using an unlicensed communications network to impede the work of law enforcement.’

‘Oh, come now, the Moor is covered in dead zones, and the park authority’s car park is notorious, something to do with overhanging tree cover in a hollow, so I’m told. You’ll find the local press tend to slip down the road to the pub car park. But your lads could have told you that.’

‘Charlotte told me she uploaded twenty high-definition pictures in seconds to her magazine via the car and your so-called “media room”. Explain!’

‘You left out, “via one of Eltham Makepeace’s satellites.”

‘Ha! Condemned out of your own mouth.’

‘Everything is legal, until the Crown makes it otherwise.’ Then I took out my phone.

‘What are you doing?’ She said as flashing dots lit our car’s interior in the winter gloom.

‘I just pressed my panic button. I confess that having a satellite channel does cause a little disruptive noise to terrestrial users that get too close, yet you noticed HRH got away without a hitch. You remember the double royal visit, oh no you weren’t there. Anyway, proof of concept, state security working alongside our drones and the Don’s moving cameras both operating on Eltham’s satellite internet. There need be no law when an unwritten, informal hands-off, unspoken agreement works perfectly well. We’re not in Europe anymore, their system is too old, too slow, not good with fast moving objects in close proximity. And no need to worry over Charlie’s photos, they’re embargoed until the palace have posted.’

Then Sonia’s work device pinged; ‘Sir? Yes, sir. No! I mean yes, at once. Thank you, sir.’ She looked at me with that film noir, curled lip. ‘Get him out of my sight Charlotte.’

‘I can’t until you move your vehicle, ma’am.’

‘Very well.’ Then another ping. ‘That’s my own mobile now. How’s that possible? “Eltham Makepeace is following you.” Oh, God. “Eltham Makepeace posted on your profile” Hell! “Congratulations on your retirement” Balloons and everything. I’ll delete it.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that. Whoever your retirement project is with, would be most unhappy. You’re going to be a major league media influencer within hours.’

End of season eleven

142: Chilling out

In an effort to avoid ghosts of Christmas’ past, we’d decided to stay on at Checkley until the new year and in the process hopefully earn ourselves some brownie points from the uncle. I’d had the perfect excuse to curtail involvement with the book club and Charlie was relieved of the obligation to produce an ideologically unsound Tea.

But our mutual preoccupations travelled with us and Checkley is an excellent place to ruminate. It being mid-winter I took the opportunity to be brutal in my pruning of the vines. Charlie had her own concerns in the woods, but helped me in the walled garden off and on, particularly in the collecting and tying up of the pruned branches, which if allowed to dry in the barn would burn very rapidly and hot, excellent for barbeques and getting big wood fires underway.

‘I’ve been thinking about Kenneth, when did it start, this thing with Elisabeth?’

‘A year or two after she became a widow, I think.’

‘You said he told you that she’d told him about the circumstances of your parent’s death.’

‘Correct. But alas, that doesn’t help, or appear to help. The reason everyone took the official explanation at face value is that their car, although it went over the edge, didn’t catch on fire. The only passports found by the authorities were the British ones. They showed they’d left Switzerland that day, entered from Italy a week before. It looks like their deaths had nothing to do with anything.’

‘Has adding everyone’s passports to your chart helped?’

‘No not really, not yet. It shows two things so far, one my folks were fans of motoring tours of Europe, and two they never mixed travel on different passports. They were always one thing, or the other.’

‘What next?’

‘Add in data from father’s diaries and daybooks I suppose.’

‘Maybe Ken put himself alongside your aunt because he had the passports?’

‘Capital mistake to theorise without facts, Watson!’

But in truth I was still processing the cascade of news and gossip I’d been hit with at the Christmas lunch. Prudence seemed to have given up not just on Rory but the rest of us. Was that a good or bad thing? But perhaps I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of Rory? That he’d been able to apply his mind to anything, must be a good thing. Perhaps I should do the same, write my own novel. Now what would make a good subject, the way we live now, something from the past, or both? It would need to be positive though, on when the going was good, rather than like most modern writing which seems so, well, downtrodden and doom laden. And so much wishful thinking, rather than trying to get closer to the truth of something. But what about subject? I seem to, of necessity, acquired a mountain of knowledge, albeit a bit superficial, about railways of late. But that was a turn-off for most readers unless it contained the romance of travel with steam locomotives. And even then, thrillers on trains were as well-worn as a Rory Flotterton plot.

That Walpole should have become so territorial about his new home county was rather nice in a way. And fully committed to the railway, though it still wasn’t clear whether Helene welcomed him getting out from under her feet, or not. Was I wrong to be pragmatic with the elder Sparkwell, Walpole was outraged by the man on Charlie’s behalf, should I be the same? Well, it’s action that counts and it would be beyond arrogant to claim an understanding of her experience.

Junior Jack was clearly getting above himself, but that was fine, he’d already showed signs of new learning over the past few years. Charlie was right to seize the opportunity to help him out. The question now, was would the atmosphere of the club and maybe the history of the house, lead him to undo the modernisation of his hotel in order to match what was coming with the railway? At least he had some old photos on the walls of reception I’d noticed, upon which to contemplate.

The real Jack had already embraced respectability; it was just a question of no backsliding. Wainwright? I must find out if she planned to stick around the area, and do what? As for the cabal, the young Turks...

‘Ta-dah! Hey there you two.’

‘Who the devil?’ I mumbled as I looking up from my reverie. There, striking a pose in the entrance to the walled garden, stood Melisa. ‘Where did you spring from.’ I said more audibly.

‘We’re on a Christmas tour, of Tim’s relatives. There are bloody hundreds of them! This is day four, I think.’

‘Well, well, well.’ I replied.

‘How long are you stopping?’ Asked Charlie.

‘Arrived in time for lunch, staying overnight, then off to God knows where tomorrow. Still, Tim says these Gregsons are the really important ones. Can't think why, they’re hardly his closest relatives.’

‘How was lunch?’ I asked.

‘Bit heavy for me, Tim wolfed it down though, all the time hanging on Mr Gregson's words. I was surprised, he was telling him, basically, he should be grateful to you for all you’re doing for him and do whatever you tell him.’

‘Ah, yes that would sort of make sense.’

‘Then Tim asked him if there was any chance, he could take time off today to show him the whole estate and would his lordship and you mind? Then this Gregson said; “Just you leave his lordship to me boy”, and “I’m sure young Missy here could head-off Mr Anthony at the pass”. Then he told me where you’d be, and here I am.’

‘So Mel, you know Tim better than any of us, what does he want, career wise, what does he aspire to?’

‘Well, he doesn’t think that far ahead really; he’s fixed to go to the Park for his first placement, wants your garden centre to be the second, says there is some mystery about it he hasn’t discovered yet.’

‘Really.’

‘But when we entered the grounds this morning, he said how would I like to spend my summers here?’

‘And what do you think of that?’ asked Charlie.

‘Well, it’s all a bit samey, I mean, when you’ve seen one field, you’ve seen them all, haven’t you.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Tim did the garden for you before we left, I left him for a couple of hours with a thermos.’

‘I know, I get notified of any activity on security.’

‘What, pictures?’

‘Sure, anything around the back gate, back door, front door.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ve always thought he’s a bit of a voyeur on the quite.’ Charlie butted in.

‘So says the greatest exhibitionist I’ve ever met.’ I shot back.

‘Is it true what they say at the club, about there being a sextape online of you two?’

‘I wouldn’t dignify it with the title, Sextape, more like badly edited scraps from the Park’s old static security cameras back in the day. So bad, it’s not easy to work out who is doing what to whom.’

‘The stuff we’ve accidental recorded at home is much better!’ Charlie proudly announced.

‘How could it be accidental, if the cameras are by the entrances?’

‘You must have noticed the ones in the treatment room, put there to intimidate private clients.’ I asserted.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Hardly surprising if you think about it, a professional masseuse fetishizing the materials of her trade.’

‘Ha! Says the man who always joins in with enthusiasm.’

141: Christmas curfuffle

‘She’s left me!’

‘Who?’

‘My wife of course.’

‘Prudence?’

‘Who else?!’

‘It, er, just seems so unlikely, she’s not been in touch with me.’

‘Why would she?’

‘Well... What have you done Rory?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You must have done something, or not done something.’

‘All I did was show her the first few pages of my novel.’

‘Novel! I didn’t even know you could write; I thought Prue did all that for you.’

‘It was putting pen to paper that caused her to leg it to her sister’s, now I’ve got writer’s block.’

‘What’s the book about?’

‘A political thriller of course. Murder, mayhem and sexual intrigue at the heart of Westminster. A dastardly villain, foiled by the hero and his girl assistant.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Certain to be a best seller, what with all my inside knowledge and that. That’ll show her.’

‘What exactly did Prue disapprove of?’

‘She said, she accused me of sexing-up a tired old narrative copied from real life.’

‘Thought the villain was based on someone did she?’

‘Yes. A Machiavellian master of spin, who’ll stop at nothing to get to be Prime Minister. Behind the soft eyes, the soft soap and the touchy-feely approach lay a mind obsessed with power.’

‘I see. Of course, something not so different was done on tv about thirty-five years ago if I recall. Though then the PM was very much played as a Shakespearian villain.’

‘Yes, well I was still at school then.’

A moment later we were interrupted by Walpole; ‘Anthony, a word in your shell-like, sorry to intrude.’

‘My dear fellow, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.’

‘I have; I’ve been haunted for three days now.’

‘Good lord.’

‘Tell me I’m hallucinating, they’re not living here, are they? I saw him, and what was presumably his wife, coming out of our supermarket! Helene didn’t notice thank God, otherwise she’d have insisted we be sociable. It was then I thought I must be seeing things.’

‘Henry! You were carrying the state-of-the-art mobile device given you by the railway?’

‘Of course.’

‘Then why, oh why didn’t you immediately text Charlie? Why worry for three whole days until you bumped into me? I mean, the one person in the world likely to be most sympathetic, the one person even more sensitive to the whereabouts of her father than you!’

‘I didn’t want to worry her.’

‘Sparkwell KC and the mother-in-law by proxy, have been coming and going since the summer, he’s retired. They have finally settled on a property in a rather obscure corner of the county, with the aid of friend of the Trust, Thayer.’

‘So, you have the situation entirely under control?’

‘You think I’d, let the side down?’

At which point up wandered Junior Jack. ‘Grand palace you've got here Tony, Charlie about?’

‘Of course, probably rounding up committee members to serve lunch to the staff. Christmas tradition. Talking of which, Christmas Eve is members only. Who let you in?’

‘I am a member. Hah, that’s floored you. Can’t work out how I’d get in on merit rather than have you pulling the strings.’

‘I’m quite respectful of your merits John, taking over from your father as chair of the hotel company and the numerous other leisure interests, director of the railway; but here, here you need influence, two members at least who think you’d fit in, no longer one of them, but one of us.’

‘All right, that’s enough thinking time, who proposed me and who seconded?’

‘And names that would resonate with the current committee, well Charlie would fit the bill as one, the other...’

‘You can’t think can you, I always knew the day would come when I out-smarted you, beat you on your own ground. Think about it, you can let me know any time, no cheating mind.’ Then he walking away, leaving me in peace, I hoped, before lunch kicked-off.

‘Tony!’

‘Ah! The real Jack.’

‘What mate?’

‘As opposed to John who only has the nickname Junior Jack, sorry I’m being bombarded with new news today. How’s tricks?’

‘Electric buses by Christmas they said, ha!’

‘But the buses have arrived, some are on the road already being tested. I saw it on the news.’

‘Must be true then!’

‘The bus company depot is just down the road from you. They’ve put them all in the timetable on their premier routes, allowing cascading on other routes.’

‘And just a few boneshakers to be retained for filling-in, in the unlikely event.’

‘But somewhere along the line someone has cocked-up otherwise you wouldn’t look so gleeful.’

‘Just because a recharger has the capability to rapidly recharge, doesn’t mean it always does.’

‘Oh dear, and if they’re downstream of you, so to speak, and you have increased demand.’

‘It’s really about switching, phasing and timing, or something like that, so they tell me, rather than actual demand, but yes, they can’t recharge fast enough for the number of units they need to push through to meet the timetable. Very embarrassing. If you use the route passing the depot and have just got use to the clean, quiet and sweet smelling, then along comes a broken down...’

‘I see.’

‘...and that’s not the worst of it, you have the new battery trains in view on your journey more often than you might think, and have to pass the rich bastards coming out of our place, not to mention public service vehicles charging away.’

‘Lightens the heart.’

‘I’ve something else that’ll amuse you even more. Wainwright’s retiring.’

‘Retiring! She’s younger than I am, I still think of her as a hot babe.’

‘I’ll tell Charlie.’

‘Sparkwell is in a league of her own I’ll have you know, uncategor-risable.’

‘That’s not a word.’

‘It is, has been for thirty years. Anyway, they’ve not kicked her out, have they?’

‘Thirty-five years of service, full pension. Looking to consult, on the side.’

‘Then you should bury the hatchet, put her on a retainer.’

‘Not a chance. It wouldn’t be gamekeeper turned poacher, she’d be reporting back to the new lord of the manor within days.’

‘Met Mel’s Dad yet?’

‘Sure. Nice bloke, checking us out for his daughter’s sake, but respectful with it. I like that. I assumed he was a mate of yours.’

‘We were at school together.’

‘Course’ you were.’

‘Excuse me Jack, I have to find Charlie before the bun fight begins!’

I had to wander for a bit, but then turning into the corridor, I saw them. All three of them. Standing, but in a huddle nonetheless. Benson, Layton and Sparkwell. Archie seemed to be doing most of the talking, putting them straight about something. Charlie, nodding, listening, could she truly be trusted? Surely, she must be potentially, my greatest blind spot. I decided I had time to stand and stare. Let them notice me. When they did, she came over and said, conspiratorially; ‘It’s the drive-by solicitors.’

‘What?’

‘Out on the white-collar industrial estate, at the end of the motorway. And the others of course, financial consultants, administrative types. They’re the ones leading the pack over sports ground advertising. Only the middle classes can afford tickets these days, and new grounds are all out of town.’

‘Then why the hell are Bernard and Brinkley aping them, their strategy is meant to be niche marketing?’

‘Well, that’s Barney’s point. And Archie thinks we should stay traditional because AI will make, those on the make, redundant soon enough.’

I tried not to smile my satisfaction, since we were clearly being observed; ‘Why are they here today?’

‘Archie’s the guest speaker.’

‘Oh! Excellent, a man of discernment. So, changing the subject entirely, you’ve been asserting your influence I hear, and now it seems there are two people you’ve slipped passed the membership committee whilst no one was looking?’

‘Well, Barney was proposed by Archie, I just seconded him.’

‘And Junior Jack?’

‘I helped him with the form, then proposed him. Like you did for me.’

‘Who seconded him?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘We’re meant to be full-up!’

‘But what’s the point of influence if you don’t use it?’

‘Where the hell is Mackintosh when one needs him?’

‘He’s got his own manor to run.’

140: Swing

‘Captain’s orders, sir. You are to report to his cabin afore noon.’

‘Not aft.’

‘No, sir.’ 

‘How’s his mobility been lately?’

‘Not good, he needs a lift anywhere beyond Royal Oak, his mind seems okay though.’

‘I see, what does he want to talk about?’

‘Absolutely no idea.’

Throughout the autumn, we’d been playing musical chairs, literally. First, we cleared Ken’s flat, anything usable or valuable we stacked around the ground and first floors of the villa. Then we ascended to the second floor and contemplated the two attic rooms, still not in use and still full of the surplus possessions of the late Aunt. We both agreed about the objective, that being to provide two, all be they small, guest bedrooms, but we lacked the will to act. After a couple of days rest and recuperation however, we found the will. Inevitably, more came out than went back in. The two new single bedrooms looked very nice though!

Charlie then took a photographic inventory of what she felt might be useful to Royal Oak, their response was very gratifying, they handed the entire project to the removals division of the not-for-profit second-hand furniture and domestic appliance shop. They in turn gave us their exclusive attention for a day, loading our entire surplus onto the van, proceeded to Royal Oak and allowed them a generous amount of time to select and unload anything they fancied. They then proceeded to the shop for their selection, leaving only the detritus for the dump.

In all this great turnaround, I had at the back of my mind thoughts of my parent’s role in life and what might have spurred Ken’s interest. Charlie had naturally set aside his ‘documents of life’, and graciously allowed me temporary custody of his two passports, which I determined to use to add data to my infographic along with my own first passport and those of the aunt Elisabeth.

‘I’ve been thinking about Ken’s memorial.’ Said Charlie as she steered me towards my encounter with the good captain. ‘It has to be gardens related.’

‘That does have a certain logic.’

‘Maybe the Trust could use the funds to sponsor scholarships in horticulture.’

‘I wasn’t aware young Tim was short of a bob or two.’

‘Bob’s what?’

‘A colloquialism from another age, let me rephrase; I'm not aware Tim is short of the readies.’

‘Well, not necessarily him, but there could be several annually, if the money was properly invested.’

‘Perhaps.’ We were coming to a halt at Royal Oak. ‘Right now, there’s something a little more pressing that I need to discuss before we go inside.’

‘Well?’

‘Mel still volunteers here once in a while, right?’

‘Half a day a week usually, why?’

‘Have there been any rumours about her coming from a wealthy family?’

‘I don’t think so, and anyway she doesn’t come across that way.’

‘If they find out, don’t let Bob, or anyone else for that matter, touch her for funds for the charity.’

‘I don’t get it, I mean I know she’ll push a twenty in the collection box from time to time.’

‘I’ve been at this game for thirty-five years, if she’s approached now, it’ll backfire. It has to come from her. The point is, the Gruber Foundation is a good long-term bet for real funding, numbers that could make their future secure. But it has to be done right. Bob would muck it up. So too, any professional beggars from the charity industry who may be hanging around. Okay? Right, let’s get on with it, I imagine it’ll be hard cop, soft cop again today.’

Royal Oak looked noticeably more, well, ship-shape than on my previous visits. It was also losing its institutional look, helped along a little by some of the pieces we'd donated. Inside the old Admiral’s study, that we so flippantly refer to as “the captain’s cabin”, the transformation was altogether of a different order. Gone were the disorganised contents of the yacht; organised they now made the room look even more cabin-like. It appeared long and cramped, demanding order, with barely enough space for his narrow cot. Two, high chairs and a large plain table, strewn with architect’s drawings, illustrations and lists, rather than maps and charts. Charlie slipped into the free chair, I found space to stand behind her, for all the world like a consort for a queen. ‘Now then, Anthony, time to move to the next phase, our most pressing problem, housing, where can our clients move on to?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘Damn it man, you’re one of the biggest property and landowners in the county. And there’s a housing crisis!’

‘Our town properties have an over ninety per cent occupancy, only those in the process of being sold or restored can in any sense be called vacant. And our rural properties have an actual one hundred per cent occupancy rate, one out one in, cheap rents offered to other family or community members. We, in our small way have a profitable farming community, because they’re not owners. Bit like you, your cheap rent is a chance for you to get on your feet, whilst we carry the cost of the building’s upkeep. Besides, your problem isn’t future housing for clients, it’s future work.’

‘But decent secure housing... Many will never work, and those that do will need secure addresses, benefit support...’

‘Sod the practicalities, they’ll take care of themselves, the clients will want to sort them, my point is you’re putting the cart before the horse.’

‘How so?’

‘You sold the idea of this place to me on the basis that clients with mental health issues had particular problems, they feel confined by conventional homes, need to be outside a lot of the time, free to roam, never been able to settle to a timetabled life, least not one that isn’t of their own design, but they do need purposeful work. Perhaps work is the wrong word, purposeful activity, by which I mean, whether paid or not, they must be able to see, at the end of every day, the product of their endeavours. And the same is true of the would-be craftsman, as it is for someone who is just being there for someone else. The kind of place to call home, follows from that.’

‘I see. You’ve clearly thought this through. Which suggests to me, you do have something in mind.’

‘No, just bring me an individual who is enthusiastic about any of the Trust’s activities, then if suitable, accommodation will be part of the package!’

It was Swing Night, the club’s calendar having had something of a rescheduling this year, the golf had been given its own final night entertainment and the Awayday had moved from post-season to pre-season. I was driving on our way to the dance, for we were in traditional mode for the evening event. Charlie had one of her party frocks on and that required the holding open of doors.

‘When I saw Margot yesterday for my hair, she asked if I required colouring. How bad is it getting?’

‘It’s not bad anything! I’ve always liked the style, keeping it up and the sometimes fringe. As for going grey, I really don’t care.’

‘It was noticeable when I did the podcast apparently.’

‘And yet, the Don thought you didn’t look your age!’

After the first dance, I lost track of Charlie. Fiona our part-time marketing manager had included dance cards with the invitations, I doubted they’d catch on. Inevitably I was soon in the company of Daphne; ‘Your Bel has seriously gone to town with the look, I notice.’

‘The New Look, is all she’s about these days, become obsessed with the nineteen forties. She says she wants, to be somebody, something in the media, but you have to have apparent novelty, she intends to be a revival! I blame you, it was these themed dances that gave her the idea.’

‘Then I’m more than happy to take responsibility.’

‘You know she’s good at languages? Well she’s got the sixth form on her side, in her desire to study a four-year French literature course at university, can you believe it?’

‘Four-year?’

‘It’s a sandwich, with a year studying in Paris. Apparently, it’s what you do these days if you want to be finished!’

‘It’ll cost a fortune.’

‘The foundation will pay.’

I don’t know about you but I never walk into a room without a deliberate hesitation. A check in the step, a slight leaning back on the ball of the trailing foot. On this occasion I’d noticed Mel and Tim propping up the bar, sat facing each other. Then I remembered something Charlie had said about Mel becoming a member in her own right using part of her grandfather’s inheritance. Tim was still in work clothes, Mel in something matching. Both of them were drinking pints, of the draught bitter the committee had recently demanded, I’d managed to steer them towards a micro-brewery renting from the Trust.

‘I say, your sister is cutting a dash.’

‘Isn't she just.’ Mel replied

'What brought this on?’

‘She wants to be like mother, isn’t it obvious.’