I had retreated to the media room, on account of Charlie having a private client. I hadn’t noticed the doorbell ring, but perhaps she’d seen whoever, arriving. After an hour or so of worrying those at the old bank about post-election strategy, I stretched my legs by wandering into the bedroom and looking down on the garden. I was shocked to see Charlie ferrying, it was the only word for it, a crouching Tuffy along the path to the back gate.
‘How was your client, responsive to the Sparkwell touch?’ I asked over our lunchtime rations.
‘Not really. I ended-up introducing some yoga for him to practice.’
‘Good God! Well, that explains it I suppose.’
‘Explains what?’
‘Why your so-called client was bent double leaving by the back gate.’
‘You saw?’
‘I did indeed.’
‘It wasn’t my idea!’
‘I imagine not.’
‘He insists everything should be shrouded in secrecy, not just from Victoria, but from you too, in case you were tempted to blab. He said; “You know Tony, he has tentacles everywhere.” He's overwhelmed.’
‘What’s happened to the poor fellow?’
‘I'm not even sure about that. He spent quite a time muttering about the railway.’
‘Our railway?’
‘No, the model set in the attic. He thinks he could create something more authentic than your lot.’
‘Good lord! Well, yes if it’s a model then it’s always simpler.’
‘I just wish he'd give some thought to who he’s talking to, I mean his twin obsessions are you and Victoria, how can I be expected to observe client confidentiality when there’s such a conflict of interest?’
‘They do say, that having chosen someone as your confessor it’s often difficult to break the habit.’
‘I say! There’s no packed lunch, damn it.’
‘Calm yourself Tuffy.’ I asserted. We were all aboard the old charabanc, heading out from the club on our annual Awayday. This year we were off to Bilberry-on-Sea, with a promise of lunch at the posh hotel on the island that sat across the causeway.
‘They’ll be takeaway coffees at the beach, whilst we wait for the sea tractor to ferry us across.’ Said Cat, taking on his usual role of tour guide.
Walpole and Helene were sat behind us, enjoying a tour again. ‘Well, this is very pleasant. You realise we hardly go anywhere together these days Walpole.’
‘Alas, pressure of work.’
‘That’s what you used to say in the old days, you’re meant to be retired!’
‘Well, I say work, but more like a hobby really, something one can be enthusiastic about.’
‘I hope there’ll be no arguments about detectives today.’
‘Strange, I wasn’t aware today’s misery tour took us to local locations from The Hound of the Baskervilles or the disappearance of Silver Blasé.’
‘Really Walpole! You know perfectly well to whom I refer. The island was an inspiration to Agatha Christie, there’s even a summer chalet in the hotel grounds where she used to write.’
‘Oh really? Would I recognise any of her titles?’
‘Evil Under The Sun, was one!’
‘Were there any art-deco buildings that didn’t have flat roofs?’ I said to Walpole as we stood looking at the only feature in the landscape of note, whilst consuming our coffees.
‘I can’t think of any, and they all leaked.’
‘Your Sherlock comment has set me thinking about next year, I’m looking for an alternative to stave off a small cabal determined we should do Christie’s home Greenway next.’
‘Oh lord!’ Then a moment later; ‘Oh, now what? Helene is gesturing with a beckoning digit. See you later.’
Melisa separated herself from the family Gruber and came over for a chat. ‘How was the bank?’ I enquired.
‘Great, Charlie helped me out.’
‘Getting a handle on financial affairs now will save countless hours in the future. Has Jack found you wheels yet?’
‘Yes, Mr Mackintosh’s old van has turned up and he’s fixing it, says it needs a lot of work though. Mother says you’d reassured her I wouldn’t turn up in some fancy sports. You’re involved with all this somehow, you seem to have leverage with practically everyone I meet!’
‘Okay, I confess, I found the van. Cat will transfer ownership to me because I’m doing him a favour in another matter. Jack is under instruction to do it all up to suit your needs, I’ll pay him whatever he sees fit to charge me, depending on how much he feels I owe him. We, have a sort of informal business partnership going. You meanwhile, need to work out how much it will cost you to run, cash you’ll have to pay, wherever it actually comes from, such as insurance, road tax, MOT, petrol per mile etc. When all that’s sorted, I simply transfer ownership to you.’
‘What? Free, gratis and for nothing.’
‘Well, there’s really no need for cash to exchange hands. I owe you an eighteenth birthday present anyway and there are occasional favours you could do for me.’
‘I’m beginning to think mother isn’t right about you!’
‘She’s biased. No, right now, there’s only one thing I can think of that would make a real difference. Would you be willing to chauffer Kenneth back and forth to our place twice a week so he can stay involved with the garden?’
‘Of course, no worries.’
‘Young Timothy not with you today?’
‘I don’t allow him to come just anywhere!’
‘Glad to hear it.’
It was whilst eating our luxurious lunch that I realised that what obsessed modernist architects were the interiors they created, and if that meant an horrendous outside, so be it. We lounged awhile after eating, then the heartier folk set off for a walk around the island. I looked for Charlie, but she was nowhere to be seen, so I just followed the group in front. Later, as we were gathering for the return ferry, I was chatting to Victoria, a few steps apart from all the others. Cat approached looking hassled and declared; ‘We’re missing two!’
‘So much so obvious.’ I replied.
‘What?’
‘I am without Charlie, Victoria is minus Tuffy, thus we deduce they are together.’
‘Good lord! I say, sorry about that and all.’
‘Oh!’ Exclaimed the Lady Vic; ‘I think we’re fairly safe in assuming Charlotte is doing her best to therapize Tuffy! And I don’t think either Tony nor I, would fully claim to know the mind of Tuffy.’
‘Absolutely. Anyway Cat, I suggest Vic and I take ten minutes to walk around the top of the island again, that’ll give us the best view.’
Five minutes later, as we were walking a path above an almost amphitheatre like cove, two figures could be seen on the beach below. I recognised Charlie by the only too familiar pose, that of the assertive fitness instructor. The figure attempting to rise out of Cobra must be Tuffy.
‘He’s only just wolfed down a large lunch!’ Said the Lady Vic.
‘Being on sand won't help. Hush a second, we might be able to hear something...’
‘Now gently rising into Warrior, try not to stretch or strain.’ Charlie could be heard to caution. But Tuffy had other ideas, he pushed on into full Victory pose. Arms out stretched forming a V and fingers spread.
‘Oh, my God!’ Said Vic, then added; ‘She’s changed into her kit.’
‘Yes, Charlie is notoriously high bound in the matter of yoga and fitness apparel.’
It was then, and I can't honestly say what made me do it, that I cupped my hands to my mouth and sent a ‘koo-ee' echoing around the cliff face. Tuffy collapsed instantly in a heap.
‘That was, brutal but effective Tony.’
‘Sometimes you need an utter bastard to stop an idiot.’ I replied.
No comments:
Post a Comment