108: The strange affair at the Dissipated Kipper

‘I suppose you know all about this?’ So said Charlie, head in tablet, as I entered the kitchen for my restorative morning coffee.

‘Well...’

‘And Don’s been less than frank.’

‘In fairness he didn’t know he was on the verge of a major exclusive until after the pictures were taken. For what it’s worth, I think your pics are better, should be a nice little earner.’

‘That’s not the point! I almost feel sorry for Buffy now, it’s not quite cricket.’

‘But then I’m no gentleman player. Still, there’s a free lunch in it for us, if it works.’

‘If what works?’

‘Carrie wants Buffy gone.’

‘Clearly!’

‘This way, Buffy, I predict, leaves her, stomps out in high dudgeon. Carrie reckons if she threw him out, he wouldn’t go quietly.’

‘Male ego.’

‘That’s the plan. And some extra cash for her to oil the wheels when she takes hands-on control of the pub once more. An outcome devoutly to be wished by the regular punters, so I’m told.’

‘Ada! Good morning, good morning.’

‘Here to fleece an old widow?’

‘Only of a cup of tea, if there’s one going.’

‘Come in quick, lest you be seen loitering.’

I was shown politely into the living room. I few minutes later tea appeared. ‘Congratulations on your golf by the way, officially top senior, not to be sniffed at.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Now then, what’s all this about you being strapped for cash?’

‘It may seem selfish in a cost-of-living crisis, but I’ve rather got use to my creature comforts. I’ve been doing the accounts. Things don’t quite add up.’

‘Right, so it’s not a one-off debt, you’re just short of a few thousand a year?’

‘What I’m short of is peace of mind. I’d actually have to sell-off quite a lot to generate the interest I’d need.’

‘Right. Well, to begin at the beginning. If push comes to shove, you should let yourself go into arrears on the management fees and or your club membership, because, at the end of the day, one or both could be claimed for from your estate. No one is going to throw you out whilst you have assets. Don’t get behind on basics like food, transport, utilities etc. And hold on to your shares until you want to sell them. I’d much prefer you took on a few commissions on the side.’

‘You want me to work for you?!’

‘Please, nothing so crude, but in my world, I can put a monetary value on almost anything...’

‘You do want me to hustle for you.’

‘Ada! Nothing that would leave you feeling in the least bit compromised.’

‘Your uncle is right to have doubts about you.’

‘You have the quiet, unobtrusive observational skills of a certain Miss Jane Marple - I can use that.’

‘I’m not some sort of honorary male!’

‘No, no, quite.’

‘I mean, I don’t mind being one of the chaps in public, but you know...’

‘Of course, must grate at times.’

‘I mean wearing these clothes, driving you around all the time, I get propositioned by enough women as it is.’

‘So, one would imagine.’

‘I just need a lot of old-fashioned straight attention.’

‘I’ll see what can be arranged.’

We were on our way to the Dissipated Kipper to claim our free lunch and hear how much truth there was in the Don’s version of Carrie’s version of life with Buffy and discover the fallout. Beyond the fact that Buffy had gone, we were in the dark.

‘Watch and learn Charlie, watch and learn.’

‘We have been here before; in case you’d forgotten.’

‘I know but I want you to appreciate that the country was once littered with blue-eyed, buxom blondes, leaning forward on beer sodden bars, showing all they’d got, and winking at the punters. The traditional barmaid is a very different kind of persuasion than your, barista-style waitressing. But no less effective for all that. Aye, aye, she’s coming over.’

‘One cod and chips and one plant-based platter, well on their way, may I join you?’

‘Naturally, it’s your bar!’

‘I know, it’s a good feeling, how’s the six-X?’

‘Excellent.’

‘Takings are up already. When Don realised what I wanted the money for, he said best forget the Downing Street stuff, and focus on the sexual shenanigans around here and at the cottage. The man’s a genius, we’re packed again and the regulars are only too glad to see the back of Buffy. Can’t imagine why I’m so popular again!’

‘Yes. The Beacon, family newspaper that it is, has to make the most of innuendo and the double entendre.’

‘Not sure I’d be so happy being so frank though.’ Mused Charlie.

‘Well, I’ve been around the block so much darling, seen it all I suppose, still all that play-acting stuff he used to insist on. I think he needed it all though, you know, to get aroused in the first place. I used to tell him; “relax, put yourself in the hands of an expert”, but it didn’t really work like that for him. Do you think it’s having puberty at a public school that brings on the kinky side, Tony?’

‘Well...’

‘Can't say I've noticed.’ Commented my companion.

‘Well no, not you Tony, always straight down, to business...’

‘What's happened to Fluffy?’ Interceded Charlie.

‘Told him to take the grubby thing with him. That was another bone of contention.’

‘How so?’

‘I wanted him outside, doing something useful, ratting, round the back of here.’

‘Where are they now?’

‘No idea.’

It wasn’t long before Buffy’s location became only too apparent. ‘How long can he afford a bedroom for?’ Asked Charlie as we motored to the Park.

‘Who knows. Still, the rulebook says you can only stay up to one calendar month.’

‘Rory’s Whitehall watchdog committee report is due out today; will he have seen it?’

‘Oh yes.’

We went our separate ways at the carpark.

Buffy snatched open the bedroom door so quickly, my hand was left raised in mid-air. ‘Oh! It’s you Anthony, I rather expected one of the staff, Fluffy has gone walkabout.’

‘Where did you see him last?’

‘Lost track of him coming in after our run.’ Which explained the rugby shirt, pre-war footer bags and essence of dog. ‘You’d better come in, I’m half way through the Flotterton Report, almost ten months and nearly a hundred pages, surprised he had the attention span. He’s a treacherous bastard. Prudence putting ideas in his head, she never liked me. You can have the turncoat back now. I’ll be full-time in the constituency, saving my seat! Have the Press turned-up yet, someone is bound to leak?’

‘Not as yet. You could hole-up here for up to a month without falling foul of the club, though I can’t promise the same for Fluffy.’

‘I’ll be gone within days. No, the Press are a minor irritant, one still has friends in Cabinet. Was that contact in Transport any use to you?’

‘Too early to say, we’re playing a long game.’

‘Can’t see why you’d be interested in steam trains, no money in it. Quite the reverse, unless that’s the point?’

‘We, had lunch with Carrie.’

‘You can have her back as well. Swop her for Charlie, eh?’

‘Ah, most amusing.’

‘What are you doing here anyway?’

‘Some of the chaps are concerned for your welfare.’

He paused, looked me up and down. ‘Really? We’re both just a couple of middle-class grafters, you and I. I’ll grant you give the finer performance, the tailored suit, fresh buttonhole. But some of that lot down below, are still obsessed with the outworn fetishes of a purblind social system.’

‘Rank is but the guinea stamp.’

‘How did you know I was going to say that?’

‘It’s a quote!’

‘But I just made it up.’

‘It’s Wodehouse!’

‘It is?’

‘The only author I’ve ever seen you reading. I’ll leave you alone now, so long Buffy.’

99: Recovery

It wasn’t until the first week of the new year that events seemed to slow down and I could get my breath back. I mused aloud in the media room; ‘Is it my destiny to spend my fifties as a kind of Mr Fix-it for the octogenarian population of the Bay area? To be an enforcer for old men in a hurry?’

‘No one is forcing you!’ Replied Charlie, from deep in the chaise longue, as well as The Beacon.

‘You know, when offering your private treatments, you might care to specialise in the relaxation of the older male.’

‘With the possible exception of Tuffy, the result with older men is rarely relaxation, more a rejuvenation and revitalisation!’ Then, in one flowing movement she was on her feet and leaning over my shoulder saying; ‘And you, are in no position to deny that.’

‘Oh, of course, undoubtedly.’

‘More to the point, regarding your dangerous old men, are we finally done with politics now?’

‘I certainly won’t go looking for it, but I can’t promise it won’t find us. Buffy seemed to be suggesting the other week that he could be useful to me. Which I doubt. And if he was hoping for a role in Trust related business, he can forget it. No, the only question mark, is the newly ennobled and promoted Frimley, who seems untainted by association with the aforementioned.’

‘What’s he calling himself?’

‘Lord Coates of Matchet.’

‘I didn’t know he came from across the border?’

‘Oh yes, he claims his family took refuge there, around the time of the Reformation.’

What I diplomatically failed to mention, was the conversation I’d had with Buffy immediately preceding the Christmas lunch. ‘I realise you are one of our most accomplished public speakers, your speech in the Commons on the passing of she, of blessed and glorious memory, was really quite moving...’

‘Thank you, Anthony.’

‘But there are mixed feelings about you around the club since the podcasts, and the Christmas lunch is regarded by members as, well, not at all a time for controversy, so, appropriate anecdotes only please.’

‘I’m not a fool Anthony, I’m always sensitive to my audience.’

‘Excellent, you were happy with the visuals I was able to offer the podcast I take it?’

‘Oh, indeed.’

‘I’ve decided how you can pay me back.’

‘Oh, really.’

‘I know I chided you about influence in government, but there is one area in which I’m lacking expertise and would appreciate being pointed in the right direction.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘The Department of Transport, how it works.’

‘Road or rail?’

‘Well, that’s the thing. It’s more how they work together, when they cooperate. Under what circumstances are road makers prepared to give way to the priorities of rail?’

‘What an extraordinary question! I suppose it must happen on occasion. Still, I’m sure I could find you the right person to talk to.’

‘A while ago, when I was first trying to explain you to Charlie, I said you were the ultimate man who doesn’t know, but always knows a man who does.’

‘Well, thank you again.’

In the end the lunch went off without a hitch, more joyous than raucous, and of course we all got the chance to toast the King!

The Boxing Day book club met, though I didn’t attend. Charlie did the refreshments and reported that nothing untoward had occurred. Murchison had so far proved as mercurial regarding his past association with Captain Bob, as he was about everything else. But the garden looked good, though with the passage of time, inevitably, Charlie took on more of the legwork, or do I mean spadework?

The following week we had our first ‘all remote’ Trust meeting. Which again, was odd from the off! We were all in separate boxes, yet Charlie and I were sat side by side at the Villa, whilst Bernard and Brinkley must have been talking from separate rooms in their apartment on the Costa del What’s It! One of our Green experts, the professor of something or other, claimed to be talking from his Tuscan villa; the other from a hotel room in Bogota! Apart from the routine business, I gave everyone the official line, previously agreed with Bernard, on the fortuitous acquisition of the railway land. I also explained we might have a tenant for The Grange, and Charlie said how she might deal with any conflict of interest. At the end Lawrence announced he’d not be returning to the UK until spring, declaring he could work just as well from home! At which point the Chair brought proceedings to an end.

‘Is everything alright between Bernard and Brinkley?’ I asked Charlie once we were offline.

‘Sure, Lawrence just prefers being in Spain. It’s better for his condition.’

‘I beg your pardon!’

‘Brinkley has a condition.’

‘As in medical?’

‘Sure, didn’t you know? It’s caused by too much sitting, making standing painful unless you’re actually moving. Trouble is, the only relief is more sitting. He says he’s had it for decades. Have you never thought it odd that he’s always sitting unless he’s actually on his way somewhere else?’

‘Oh, right. Shame really, less opportunity for you to get pally with Larry...’ Ping! Another train of thought interrupted. ‘Ah! A text. From the Lady Vic; “Buy me a stiff drink, tonight seven pm, the club.” What on earth?’

‘Well, that makes sense.’

‘It does?’

‘I’ve been asked to maintain order in the Games Room tonight. Darts match.’

‘Oh, of course, Tuffy is on the Darts team.’

‘He’s quite good, seems able to relax, when he’s in the zone.’

‘Really. How fascinating.’

‘There you go, I ordered one in.’

‘Just what I need. I wish Tuffy was as attentive. It would be a start if he could remember what my usual is!’

‘And I take it this is all about...’

‘He, is bothered, perturbed, permanently distracted it would seem, by the fallout from Mary’s death.’

‘Have I made things worse?’

‘No. No. It’s just, he can’t get his head around the reality of his father not spending every last penny on his family.’

‘Ah, well I can give you a very clear and definitive answer to that one. It’s all very simple actually, you’ve met it countless times in your own life.’

‘Hit me with it then.’

‘Mr Tufnell senior, self-made man, doesn’t want any child of his to become one of the idle rich, believes they should make their own way in life. Me, son of one of his pals, is one of the idle rich. But my father and he were good enough pals, for the message to get through that the idle rich aren’t that idle - unless they want to see their wealth disappear within a generation or so. Father and mother die. And I was there, standing next to Tuffy when Mr Tufnell gave his encouragement, occasional pep talks and homilies. I got the message, Tuffy didn’t, he just picked up bad habits at school and university, whilst I was picking up cash on the side, before I left either of them! Tuffy’s father and mother did everything right, he’s no business feeling aggrieved. But once Tuffy picked up the message others thought him stupid, he somehow turned it into, the world owes me a living.’

‘I believe you.’

‘Same again?’

‘Please.’

‘And, no I don’t have a solution to the problem, other than you keeping doing what you’re already doing, making him feel useful.’

And then the Dart’s team started drifting in.

‘That was quick!’ I exclaimed.

‘Play suspended.’

‘The Ref called extended injury time,’ said another, ‘she’s helping Tuffy over to the spa as we speak.’

54: Charlie's country house caper

‘Were you asleep?’

‘Er, yes, what time is it?’

‘Have you been lying-in all the time I was away?’

‘Well...’

‘I’m coming over.’

I had enough time to get showered and dressed, but when I got downstairs, Charlie was already moving about the kitchen with disapproval. ‘This is never going to work. How long before Merriweather fixes the garage?’

‘It’s not a fix, the fact that it’s ours has already been established, it’s just a question of how brutal Bernard has to be removing the current occupant.’

‘There’s some kit of mine in the boot, bring it in whilst I tidy-up a bit. What is on today’s schedule anyway?’

‘I’m going to show you our new local shoppe, and you are going to buy a hard copy of The Beacon!’

‘Why?’

‘Souvenir issue. I thought you’d already know that?’

‘I’ve been preoccupied with your backsliding.’

As we were walking down the hill, Charlie asked; ‘How long is your arch enemy going to keep up with all these lockdowny restrictions?’

‘For people like us, about another forty-eight hours I should think.’

‘What?’

‘We, are about to become key workers. Furthermore, long delayed improvements to the Park are suddenly going to take-off again. And of course, in four months, everything will have more than paid for itself.’

‘I love you. God knows why, but I do. Sneaky bastard.’

With no details, the quality press did their best with; ‘Privileged elite to meet at exclusive country hideaway’. Whilst, The Beacon had; ‘PICTURE EXCLUSIVE Inside Buffy’s High Tech Country Conference SEE CENTRE PAGES’

‘How did they get any of this?’

‘Off Wooley’s device of course, he was there for almost a month at election time remember? Wait till you go to your app, there’s video.’

‘Oh my God, we’re all in these pics.’

‘Yes, but imagine you’d never been there. There’s no sign of the club’s actual activities, just what the headline says.’

‘So, the Lefties are all disapproval, but the biggest readership, of ordinary people, get the inside story.’

‘Bleed’in tragic innit!’

Charlotte gathered her composure and did a thorough inspection of the shelves of our new, local retail cooperative. As we were heading back up the hill she asked; ‘So just what is my role meant to be in all of this?’

‘Well, I understand you will be contacted soon. Didn’t you give your number to the head of Buffy’s security detail?’

‘Oh, right.’

‘The idea, which we’ve only very tentatively explored so far, is that you should be Buffy’s, Special Protection Officer whenever he is in the vicinity of the Park.’

‘But they just gave me odd bits of advice about crowd control psychology...’

‘Ah! No, this is more personal. What I think he wants is for you, using your exceptional waitress come Maître d’hôtel skills, is to place yourself between him and the guests.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘You understood that one all right.’

‘Too bloody right!’

‘An uppity French president, who’s clearly been pussy-whipped his entire life. An East German house-frau, who from the look of her has been enjoying sugary fancies under the table for decades - and a US president who between falling asleep at regular intervals, is determine to show his virility!’

A week or so later we found ourselves sitting in the car in the abandoned carpark at the Park, staring at the locked-up house. We’d each received our orders via text - me from some Cabinet Office official, she from her new ‘handler’ - to be there at eight-thirty sharp.

‘We’re twenty minutes early!’

‘Well, I am a little anxious I suppose.’

‘So, just what work on this place is going to magically get done?’

‘That rather depends on how many personnel we’re allowed. A couple of gardeners - with their high-tech machinery - gets the golf course finished. Finding three or four underemployed workers from the National Truss gets the inside tarted-up. Plus, four or five of the regular staff need to be allowed back in pretty soon. The big question mark, will be communications.’

‘How come?’

‘Only the ballroom and the two adjacent withdrawing rooms have fibre optics, connecting to the antennae and the dish on the roof. All the other Wi-Fi comes via the landline telephone network, I don’t even know how far we are from the end of the fibre optic roll-out.’

‘Surely if they want more than we’ve got, they’ll have to pull springs?’

‘Absolutely. But there is a certain amount of negotiation required over who pays and presumably the work would have to start soon.’

‘There’ll come a point won’t there when you’ll lose control of the conference, I mean the whole place.’

‘Yes, and I’m reliably informed that although the contract will have a date, these things creep up on you, more and more people you know nothing about start arriving and you gradually become side-lined. I suspect you will be the only one truly on the inside come the four days. The only other people you’ll really know will be confined to the kitchen and the office.’

‘If you’ve been reading Buffy right.’

‘Indeed. Hello! A flashing light, car and mobile, well I’ll be damned. Open your window.’

‘Chopper approaching, one o’clock, Merlin.’

‘Ah. Markings?’

‘Can’t tell, just looks greyish black.’

‘Close the window.’

‘These notifications indicate someone on my network in the vicinity. Someone on that chopper and defiantly not the two people we are here to meet, someone extra.’

‘The man himself.’

‘I hope not, I know for a fact he’s meant to be opening a factory in Pontefract!’

‘Who then?’

‘Not telling, I’m having a little bet with myself.’

‘But surely you could go to, whatever counts as an address book in that system of yours?’

‘Sure, but if I open it, he, I’m assuming it is a he, will know.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘The lights flashed, because my kit picked-up his personal device on which he was searching to see if we were here. There’s always a way of knowing.’

‘Did he know, you’d know, if he located you?

‘I don’t know.’

We saw the group of suits for just a few seconds as they came along the path from the helipad. ‘I’m none the wiser.’

‘I am,’ said Charlie. I turned my head.

‘Ha! He’s pretending to be nonchalant; he’d have had to run to get here in that time.’

‘The black mask is a bit scary.’

Our visitor opened the driver’s side door. ‘Charlie! Wonderful to see you again, like old times ya?’

As she jumped out, she said; ‘He knew it was you, didn’t tell me though, lights flashing everywhere.’

‘Thanks a bunch Charlie. Discretion is more important than ever if we’re to pull this one off.’ I replied.

‘Don’t listen to the man, you’re a star, all the Navy flyers love you.’

‘What?’

‘This place, always on the fight path for them and the RAF, what with the camp on the top of the Moor, Marine training only a few miles away, everyone using the coast to navigate. Last eighteen months, they’ve all seen the transformation in the grounds...’

‘Barmy, what the hell are you doing here?’ I interrupted.

‘Navy in charge of the whole thing, controlling the air space, we’re offshore right now, those guys were inspecting the airport an hour ago, we provide the transport.’

‘You know what I meant.’

‘I’m their link man, I know the inside here, besides I’m the only person on the flagship who can get into the club portal.’

‘So, who came with the chopper?’

‘Your Cabinet Office guy, Charlie’s protection guy, the other three are spooks of some description.’

‘That’s all we need!’

‘But best bit is, according to your guy, Buffy and Carrie are the only ones in Downing St. who can access the portal, so you know, they go around showing it off to the select - good work, Heptonstall right?’

Then the house alarm system went off.

‘Oh my God!’ said Charlie.

‘Can’t even force a window.’ I said, as an aside to Barmy.

‘Shouldn’t we do something?’ She exclaimed.

‘Hang-on a second, I’ll check whose sleep-in caretaker this week. Ha! Charlie, tell your “asset” to let the burglars in.’

53: Sparkwell's return

‘Where the hell are you?’ Said Charlie, down the line.

‘At the Villa.’

‘You’ve moved us!’

‘Only me and my stuff, take a look around, you’ll find you’re still fully intact. What’s that crash?’

‘I just dropped my fishing tackle. Oh, now I see, I think? The camera has gone from the treatment room I notice.’

‘Yes. I’m speaking to you from the Media Room, first-floor front. But anyway, I couldn’t move you without your consent, but then I couldn’t show you what you might wish to move to; without moving myself - if you see what I mean?’

‘That might be logical in your world but I’m not sure... I’ve only been gone a week; you must have been scheming this for ages.’

‘Well not really. The builders finished here the day after you left. You commandeered the car so I had to leg it to Jack’s for a courtesy vehicle and he was moaning about how much his lads were underemployed and suddenly I had a brainwave...’

‘Don’t bother.’

‘All done for free, payback for our road trip. Anyway, get yourself over here. It would appear I’ve got some even bigger news you may have reservations about.’

‘Oh my god, what?’

‘Have you been living in total isolation?’

‘Of course.’

‘Not listened to the news?’

‘Why would I?’

Charlie arrived rather recklessly. I’m sure some curtains must have twitched in the avenue. She practically ran up the path, clearly, she must have put the radio on. ‘Don’t you ever do that to me again. I almost crashed. Are you out of your mind? Talk about getting above yourself, and just what role in the proceedings had you got in mind for me?’

‘Firstly, the idea came from the top; secondly, they’ve asked for you, more or less full-time until the summer.’

‘But, but... You’ve only got six of the bedrooms in commission!’

‘Correction, we’ve got state rooms as grand as anything they’ll have ever known, they just need the dust blowing off.’

‘What!’

‘And if they’re not satisfied, they can make do with the servant’s quarters above.’

‘Seriously, Tony. What’s this all about?’

‘Buffy’s revenge, I think. His chance to stick it to the rest of the world.’

‘How?’

‘He wants us, as we are. The club. Right down to the regular menu.’

‘Well let’s pray they’re not here on a Thursday.’

‘Why?’

‘Well! I’m pleased you’ve forgotten, as chair of the Dining Committee you must have approved it once upon a time - Spotted Dick with lumpy custard.’

‘Oh yes. Happy days.’

‘So, you promised Prudence foreign statesmen, are you going to deliver an HRH too?’

‘Well, unknown as yet. But we do have a banqueting room familiar to their ancestors.’

‘Well, you’ve changed this room.’

‘Yes, back to what it must once have been. Ground floor front, therefore a literal reception room, somewhere to meet visitors and decide whether they should be allowed any further on to the premises.’

‘Do take a seat madam, I’ll see if the young master is at home.’

‘Or, do take a seat, whilst I prepare the treatment room, there’s mineral water on the sideboard.’

‘What?’

‘Step this way.’

‘How come it’s so light? And where’s the dining table, you said it was a genuine heirloom.’

‘The table is in three bits in one of the top floor bedrooms, only took the lads five minutes, it was designed to be taken apart. The ceiling and walls above the picture rail have new white paint and LED ceiling lights, see? And, this back wall is now white, whilst the remaining posh wallpaper has had some sort of damp spongy treatment, that brings back the original slightly reflective effect.’

‘The floor?’

‘That I admit is a bit of an indulgence, has to be sealed again apparently, when the wood has dried out a bit more. Oh, and the patio doors have been rehung and tinkered with, easy to leave ajar now, for fresh air and birdsong on spring mornings. So, moving on, only minor changes to the kitchen and pantry.’

‘Fresh paint and?’

‘Just a thorough clean-up really, food was quite a priority with the Aunt.’

‘What’s happened to the backdoor?’

‘Oh yes, I almost forgot, it has in fact been replaced. So, no more bolts but a dead lock as well as a sprung lock - now an alternative way to ingress and egress the property.’

‘Honestly this isn’t fair, you’ve been doing this to make me want to be here, rather than creating your own space. Now, it’s like I owe you!’

‘You haven’t seen upstairs yet.’

‘Oh cripes.’

‘So, master bedroom one, street facing, becomes proper family withdrawing room come library - henceforth to be known as the Media Room.’

‘Now that is cool.’

‘Well yes, and apart from Barmy’s garden shed I can’t think of one to beat it. Indeed, my wraparound screen is bigger that his.’

‘Looks like you’re still at the same place with your father’s documents as you were when they were downstairs?’

‘Yes, and likely to stay that way if I have to be hands-on with the Summit. Anyway, moving along, real master bedroom, garden facing with new improved bath and shower arrangements.’

I left a long pause, until she broke the silence; ‘All plumbed in, but no tiles yet.’

‘Correct.’

‘Well, I’m not signing-up for cleaning. Either you do it yourself or get someone in. And the car?’

‘Bernard is in negotiation to get Uncle Thomas’s mews garage back.’

‘Mews?’

‘At the confluence of the two back lanes that serve the avenue.’

‘Now you’ve lost me.’

‘An ancient, pre-historic version of a residents association, formed out of the freeholders, to look after the mews, the back lanes, the avenue, and the common lawn behind the trees.’

‘It’s all private? You wouldn’t know it.’

‘Long may it stay that way.’

‘You said you would be using last week to settle the reconstituting of the Trust!’

‘Well, that’s slightly delayed on account of it can only happen once Bernard and Brinkley have put their own semi-retirement plans into operation.’

‘You’re in charge, aren’t you?

‘Of course, but they have to do it all of their own free will and fly-off to the sun in the firm belief it was all their own idea.’

‘You know you said I’d have to find out about those two on my own. Well, I’ve discovered nothing, so perhaps you’d better come clean.’

‘All I know, all anyone knows - and this’s the point - is, you know that Art Deco block of flats between here and town? That’s where they live.’

‘Together?’

‘No. They each have a second floor flat; they live across the corridor from each other.’

‘Oh. Right.’

‘And, about twenty-five years ago, when this arrangement began, they each went halves on a timeshare in Spain. The only gossip ever to emerge, is that they nearly always take annual leave at the same time.’

‘They don’t look the part, do they?’

‘I’m not sure that’s an appropriate question these days?’

‘You know what I mean! Brinkley looks positively, Dickensian.’

‘Indeed, the miserly clerk, sat on a high stool at one of those high desks. Whilst Bernard looks like the country squire, fresh from tearing a strip off the stable lad.’

‘So, what happens, they keep their financial stake in the whole set-up I take it?’

‘Absolutely. They just hand over most of their clients to the staff they’ve been bringing along the last couple of years, with the exception of the Trust, the Park and the club accounts. If you go to the websites of Brinkley Associates, and Merriweather and Stollard, you will find them describing themselves as Consulting Accountant and Consulting Solicitor respectively.’

45: There's a bug going around

‘If you care to proceed to the kitchen sir, I’ve laid out our election night spread.’

I duly obeyed. ‘Goodness! Party food. But surely, all of this, well, it’s not food at all by your usual strict criteria.’

‘I know, but look closer. It’s the health food store’s artificial version of artificial food, if you see what I mean. All made with sugar substitute stuff, but using some kind of dodgy veg oil I think, otherwise it would all fall apart.’

‘So, not only will it taste of less than nothing, we have no idea whether it’s even more dangerous to health than the original.’

‘I know.’

‘This is my reward for not distancing myself enough from politics I suppose. Nice of you to go to all the trouble.’

‘Actually, it wasn’t any trouble, because of the time of year, the store has a kind of kid’s bran tub thingy at the cash desk. So, I used up all the points on my store card.’

‘Oh right, the card you failed to get passed Brinkley.’

‘That’s the one! So anyway, before you switch on the tv, what’s the result going to be?’

‘I really don’t know.’

‘Yes, but that’s what your head says, what’s your gut feeling?’

‘Buffy’s going to get away with it, a majority of say, between forty and fifty?’

‘What! No way! Surely not? They must be wrong.’ So exclaimed Charlie a few moments after 10,00pm.

‘Trouble is, unlike opinion polls, these exit polls that have been introduced in the last couple of decades have been getting more and more accurate.’

‘Then why aren’t you punching the air? Rory will romp it with a majority of, what?’

‘Er, just about five thousand, if it is a swing of around ten per cent. It’s too much, not for Rory I mean - Buffy will be insufferable.’

‘Shouldn’t have got into bed with him then.’

‘Time to make a hasty withdrawal, via the back staircase. From now on I’m turning on, tuning in and dropping out - as Uncle used to be fond of saying.’

‘Eat your treats.’

There are two kinds of people, those who require one screen on their desks and those who require two. I’m a one screen person but I’ve met plenty of the other sort. Market traders, bankers, bookies, people with security responsibilities etc. The second screen sits there in their peripheral vision, often their whole working lives. Their brains unconsciously absorb and learn the patterns, then notice difference. Those of us with one screen like one task at a time, but we have our regular habits - and sometimes the irregular just shouts something’s wrong. It was just before Christmas that I found myself reading online another of those Chinese health stories that occur every few years, a rush of pneumonia cases, suggestive of a virus - is it another strain of flu? Video of the authorities taking even more elaborate tech precautions than usual. I found I was still staring at the screen some minutes after finishing the story. Markets will fall, I thought to myself. China is the most important economy even if no one admits it yet. Why should I be feeling concern? A little of the Trust’s assets had been invested with listed companies, but only the safest - banks, insurance companies and the like. The Trust acts a bit like a pension fund really… Then I had it, this is personal, a personal health scare.

‘Brinkley. Good morning to you. The Trust money you persuaded us to invest in the markets a year or so ago, how’s it doing? ..Jumped since the election, well that’s good then. Be so kind as to contact matey, now - and tell him to sell it all, today. ..Yes, it may well rise further, but I have a bad feeling about China. ..Yes. ..No. You’ll find written instructions are already in your inbox.’

After hectic post-election Christmas celebrations at the Park, Charlie finally got a proper sit-down tea at Aunt Elisabeth’s on Boxing Day. In fact, she made quite a hit with the members of the Book Club. Firstly, on account of having braved the elements in a rather spectacular floral peasant dress, secondly, she knew the book they had all been digesting - Only A Factory Girl by Rosie M Banks. It was a reissue by the Nonsuch Press in their Modern Romantic Classics series. It turned out she’d read a first edition when she was fourteen, the volume in question being owned by her mother, but with an inscription on the flyleaf written in her grandmother’s childhood fist!

Once literary criticism had been exhausted, conversation turned inevitably to gossip. I was shocked to discover that several of the assembled company were already aware of a surprise announcement made at the club lunch barely forty-eight hours previously. Tuffy had taken it upon himself to make a speech, uninvited. He’d rambled for a while about how throughout his life he’d been unlucky in love. There had been definite murmurings of discontent from the crowd. I’d begun to feel anxious myself, but then he’d suddenly announced that Lady Victoria Herring had graciously consented to be his wife. This was followed by a moment of stunned silence before myself and others realised, we’d better start clapping like crazy.

‘So, what do we know of the gal?’ Aunt Elisabeth appeared to be addressing me with her comment.

‘Hardly a girl, aunt. Tuffy and I first met her when we were at school and had signed-up for formal dance classes, she was one of the girls bused in from St. Hilda’s to help out. We took to her right away because she obviously knew what she was doing, even then all her leisure hours were dominated by the ballet. She and Tuffy went out together a few years later, he even got as far as introducing her to his mother, but nothing much transpired.’

‘Of a suitable age, well that at least is reassuring.’

‘Oh, Vic’s alright, what I don’t comprehend is why a woman, having gone to all the trouble of getting rid of one husband, barely six months previously, should want to take on another?’

‘Moneyed is he, this Tufnell fella?’ So spoke the only other male at the tea party. It was Murchison, who had been Aunt’s jobbing gardener throughout the years of her widowhood, but also shared her taste in literature.

‘Really Kenneth! A little tact please.’

‘Well, Tuffy’s father did rather well, but how much remains I haven’t a clue. Tuffy and his mother live very simply in a rather lovely Victorian terraced house - two storeys below street level, three above, plus attic quarters, the whole works! It was there that Tuffy’s father introduced me to Sherlock Holmes, in the perfect Baker Street house.’

‘I hear all Lady Victoria’s divorce settlement went into opening her art gallery.’ This from the lady who used to work at the library.

‘Well, that I can neither confirm nor deny I’m afraid. I assume she has some money of her own, the Herring fortune was a large one in bygone days.’ At that point Charlie nudged me hard enough to rattle my china tea cup, I took it as a cue to stop rambling and shut up.

The conversation drifted to other local characters with whom I have little interest. Finally, as the Aunt made efforts to draw the encounter to a close, she apologised to the assembled company, saying she would be unable to attend their next get together due to a prior engagement at a local hospital. It appeared her medical advisors had persuaded her to seek a surgical solution to some of her joint problems. But she assured everyone, she would get stuck into the prescribed reading.

44: A woman's best friend

‘Yes, I see. No. He, and a single guest, can book one of the bedrooms for up to four weeks, but if he wants to bring in more guests it has to be on a daily basis as part of an event, pre-booked and organised for. You must say, no but we do have our new conference facilities, the ballroom with seating up to one hundred and thirty, plus the two adjoining seminar rooms, which are both fully wired-up like the ballroom, and one of which could be used as a temporary press room, for interviews via the Internet. As long as he understands there are no permissions to use it like a radio studio. No, you must explain all this, say you’ve consulted, spoken to senior management, and you definitely don’t say it was me. He needs deniability as much as we do. Yes. Speak later.’

‘Perhaps I shouldn’t have heard all that.’

‘Well, actually, sometime in the next few weeks if you bump into your favourite columnist at the Park, you should make friends, show him the ropes, but remember the idea is he tells you stuff, not the other way around. Difficult I know given he’s the one trained to get information out of people, but…’

‘I’d be all tongue tied.’

‘Well offer him a story.’

‘I haven’t got any.’

‘Yes you have! Tell him about matey, our local celebrity chef and his seafood harbour restaurant, he’ll love that. They know all chefs are psychos who always gesture with the hand holding the knife - tell him about all the cod coming from the Baltic! Better still, tell him the seafood only tastes great because the punter is sitting on the harbour.’

‘Oh, right.’

It takes it out of you organising a campaign without appearing to do so. The cognitive load, as the neuroscientists refer to it, is just too much. I found myself thinking out loud; ‘Now, Buffy just makes a single visit, with twenty-four hours’ notice; but Carrie, armed with secret weapon, is booked in for two days door knocking with Rory in the final week, however, we don’t have to worry about accommodation because she still has the cottage behind the Dissipated Kipper. Now then, avoid the fish quay this time because the opposition will just pipe up and say it’s only there because of EU money, where can Buffy and Rory safely go? Charlie!’

‘Leave me out of it.’

‘Just a point of information, that’s all. What was the name of that website that ranked our chippy number one in the South West or whatever?’

‘Why on earth?’

‘I want to give Wooley the headline “PM learns right way to fry chips” but, you know, translated into tabloid speak. Buffy loves anything where he can roll up his sleeves.’

‘Aren’t you in grave danger of getting “Buffy’s Had His Chips”.’

‘Oh my God, are we?’

‘Well, I don’t know, but anyway, according to today’s freesheet, the overpriced ice cream tub is standing again.’

‘What! They must be mad.’

‘Even if they are, they’ll still have learnt something from the last time.’

‘Touché. Whatever we do, we mustn’t follow the same logic as before.’

‘Why are you knocking your pan out over all this?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, gives the little grey cells a thorough workout I suppose, besides this is the easy bit, next I have to convince Prudence to convince Rory that he dreamed all this up!’

‘You’re this Tony guy, right? Don Wooley, The Beacon.’

‘Are yes of course, I have a close personal friend who reads you all the time.’

‘The Valette, I’ve met her, you’re a class act, so I’m told.’

‘Well thank you.’

‘I can’t believe my proprietor has cleared your invoice for exclusive use of your dinky new conference facility for four whole weeks, plus a room for me and my partner. More palatial than Buck House itself.’

‘Well, it is somewhat older.’

‘Ha! Effortless. And still we vote for Her Madge.’

‘Well, if you could just see your way to a post-Brexit trade deal, you’re welcome to throw Charlie boy overboard. Drink?’

‘I thought you’d never ask. I’ve just been trying to get the raspberry ripple over here for an interview, he turned me down.’

‘Fascinating, I’ve been on the lookout for him or any of his lieutenants for some time, assuming they would try and infiltrate in order to have a pop at us.’

‘Perhaps he thinks if he steps across the portal, he’ll become tainted.’

‘That’s a point, instead of actually learning anything about their opposition, they’d rather remain in ignorance for fear of losing their reputation for ideological purity.’

‘I doubt they’re even conscious of where their beliefs come from mate!’

As soon as we were informed of Buffy’s second official flying visit, we decamped to the Park immediately. Early the following morning Charlie and I set-up a one-way system in the house to marshal police, government security, party HQ campaign staff, the media and the politicians themselves. She asked; ‘Will any members be allowed in today?’

‘In theory, yes.’

‘Well, I’m supposed to be leading the final wood patrol!’

‘Ah. Er, I’d try and meet them in the carpark, do it all outside. Only the PM’s security detail can actually physically bar their way. They’ll just get friendly advice from the police, it’s only if they get stroppy in reply that they may be in trouble.’

‘I might try and prime them by text.’

‘Ah, there you are Anthony. Is it me? I’ve the distinct impression I’m watching the retreat from Moscow!’

‘Oh, I see what you mean Prime Minster.’ Buffy was staring out of the window of the veranda bar, morning coffee in hand. It was a slightly mystical winter scene, the spoil from the landscaping gave it the feel of a battlefield. Crossing our vision, half in silhouette, was a handcart piled high with chopped wood - or perhaps it was bodies - pulled by four men distinctly bowed by the exertion. Behind them followed a relaxed loping female figure, casually dangling her chainsaw.

‘My God man, what’s your sergeant major been doing to them?!’

‘Give’m hell Charlie!’

‘You didn’t need to be so rough with Tufnell. I suggested something romantic, didn’t I?’

‘You did indeed. I set him off on the trail of the Lady Vic.’

‘The Herring? I thought she’d joined the art connois-sewers?’

‘She has, opened a gallery on the harbour side. Tuffy is her self-appointed goffer.’

‘Ha! Get him married off, he’s been a millstone round your neck too long.’

‘Er, thank you Prime Minister, how’s Carrie?’

‘Very optimistic about the North. She’s been bounding up and down dale with Fluffy?’

‘Who?’ I said, feigning ignorance.

‘Fluffy the Downing Street dog.’

‘What breed?’

‘Terrier of course.’

‘May one enquire why you’re skulking here and not out there pressing the flesh?’

‘Taking an hour out to give Wooley his exclusive. He’s behaving himself, is he?’

Alas I have but second-hand reports with which to recount Carrie’s visit. At around lunchtime on the first day, I was preceding down the long ground floor corridor at the Park when from behind came that voice, so reminiscent of Aunt Elisabeth; ‘Anthony! Half a tick.’

‘Prudence, how may I be of service?’

‘I’ve been side-lined by Trumpton’s live-in girlfriend and it’s all your doing.’

‘She’s here in her capacity as a professional persuader.’

‘Well, she’d better be good. She spent an hour this morning alone with Rory. He said they were just rehearsing, but she’s got this thing about her, like you and Charlotte, that disarming thing, makes one feel like it’s hopeless to resist, hypnotic or whatever.’

‘Presence, charm, charisma?’

‘Creepy more like.’

‘Oh, come on, you spend half your life coaching Rory, it’s the secret of his success.’

‘Yes, but not like that.’

‘So, you saw some of it.’

‘Well, just a bit. Rory is meant to say; “Just calling around because I thought you might like to meet the PM’s fiancé and their darling new companion Fluffy”. And then, the constituent will apparently make a joke about how Buffy and Fluffy must be a bit of a handful, to which she replies by winking at the same moment as patting her tummy!’

43: Deal or no deal

‘Parcel delivery, sir.’

‘I haven’t ordered anything.’

‘Perhaps someone’s been viewing your wish lists.’

‘I don’t have any.’

‘I’ll open it for you if you like.’

‘No, no, that’s alright.’ I was damned if I was going to give her the satisfaction. I poked and prodded as I got to work with the scissors. It felt suspiciously like clothing. Instead of hovering in mild agitation, there was a definite attempt to suppress the lopsided smirk. ‘What the… I see, don’t tell me, we’re moving to a new stage of the programme.’

‘It’ll take ten years off you.’

‘The track suit bit is for outside I take it.’

‘We need to get you at least capable of running for a bus - without doing yourself an injury.’

Charlie’s programme consisted of making use of the Park golf course whilst it was out of commission to members. ‘Jog a bit, sprint a bit, jog a bit more. Rest.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Jog for twenty, sprint for ten, jog for twenty, stop. Get it?’

‘And I get to count at my own rate?’

‘Never fails.’

‘Really? Surely people just count faster and head for the early shower.’

She moved in close. ‘Women aren’t attracted to the money; it’s the ambition, the get up and go! Blokes on the make often pull as well as the already accomplished. You just have to be seen to be going places and enjoying it. Anything gravity defying is joyful.’

‘Okay, coach.’

I had hoped our exertions had been more or less private, but as we passed outside the veranda bar, en route to the bathrooms at the back of the spa, we were diverted. There were people waving at us, a few had raised champagne glasses. Someone opened the glass door and gestured. Reluctant to enter in my hot and sweaty state, nonetheless I obliged. I turned to Cat Mackintosh; ‘The atmosphere is positively raucous, I see from that silent tv screen Buffy is making some sort of a statement, has the Brexit withdrawal deal been done then?’

‘Oh never mind that. We’re celebrating our deal. I counted it all up, five hundred and eight days since the Televised Sport Advisory Sub-committee to the Dining Committee was set up, our final report should be in your inbox now.’

‘The protocol for tv at the club? Done? Well blow me. I thought it would take you all at least two years.’ I patted my pockets, searching for my mobile device, securely attached to me somehow, gathering the fitness activity data insisted upon by Charlie. After some ferreting. ‘Only fifteen pages, you’ve shown admirable restraint.’

‘Well, everything became extraordinarily simple once we’d devised, The Cricket Test!’

‘No, don’t tell me, let me digest at leisure, after I’ve had a shower. Carry on, I’m sure you’ve all done very well.’

Before leaving the Park, I ran off a hard copy of the report. I refuse to own a printer on principal these days. I pursued it as I was driven home. ‘Well?’ Asked Charlie.

‘Well what?’

‘This is all bound to involve a lengthy briefing, you may as well make a start.’

‘Er, um, yes. I know! Now then. Us chaps, as you know, take a pretty traditional view of life as a whole. When the club opened there was a general feeling that tv in the lounge or the bar - or indeed in some sort of dedicated tv room was strictly a no, no. A smoking room, no problem. A library for quiet contemplation and the writing of letters, natural enough. But couch potatoes, enduring their Soaps, not for people like us.’

‘I get it. But what to do about live sport? Of course.’

‘Precisely so.’

‘Hardly within the purview of the Dining Committee surely?’

‘You’re remembering your education. Well, geography really. I mean the permanent open access between the lounge, the dining area and the veranda bar, was all the result of lifting off the two sets of connecting double doors. All areas food and drink.’

‘Right.’

‘So, when the issue looked like being contentious, I suggested a one-off sub-committee. And it was agreed that a temporary solution of a flat screen on the wall in the bar with the sound usually off would be allowed, wired for free channels only.’

‘And eighteen months later…’

‘Quite. The problem was everyone chipped in with the different sports they wanted, we didn’t want to have people staying at home for significant parts of the year, so somehow it had to be everything from the Albanian football league, to the Zimbabwean cricket team. Not to mention the gender lobby, whether they were fans or not, if there was a female equivalent somewhere on the globe, we had to be seen to be providing it. So, technical and financial challenges to be overcome.’

‘What’s the cricket test?’

‘Well that’s what I’m in the middle of now, leave me in peace a while and I’ll endeavour an explanation in plain English.’

After fifteen minutes or so of cogitation back at the apartment, and fortified by a glass of iced water with a slice of lemon, I resumed. ‘The premise is; if we can satisfy the demand for a live feed of every single international cricket match - with the sound turned down - and the TMS radio commentary or equivalent, plus a second screen showing a real time scoreboard, then, we will, by default have purchased all the right kit and subscriptions in order to view everything else!’

‘Are they right?’

‘Well they’ve had long enough to think about it!’

‘And how do they propose paying for it?’

‘Well, here it would seem their psychology is right on the button. I may not be a great sports fan, but I can see that charging a premium on alcohol during a sporting event is genius. It satisfies the fundamental need for the club itself. After all, solitary sport is no sport at all, artificially creating a crowd spirit is the whole point - with a premium paid on the drinks, the right crowd self-selects itself.’

‘You mean on cricket days the bar will be packed with cricket fans.’

‘Got it in one.’

‘And on women’s football days?’

‘Not so crowded I grant you.’

‘But what about the disgruntled male members who can be seen hovering at twelve o’clock every day?’

‘Oh, I think you’ll find a sizeable chunk of them keeping half an eye on the game.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, the Americans have an expression which covers the phenomenon rather well, “foxy boxing”.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Sure.’

‘It’s just that, you’ve been staring into space since ending that call.’

‘Yes, just taking it all in. It was from Carrie, I’m having one of those, “why am I being told all this” moments.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘I’ve been told the proposed election date, it’s a week later than I’d supposed, apparently we, the constituency that is, are ground zero. Given that Rory is Buffy’s majority, Rory must be seen from the start to be on the up and up.’

‘You mean Buffy wants you to big him up, Rory that is?’

‘Quite, but of course from the opposition’s point of view, we are their key marginal. Now I’m clear in my mind on what needs to be done, I know what would work, it’s just the how…’

‘Well just don’t drag me into it.’

‘Understood.’

‘Negotiations over the wood patrol are at a delicate stage.’

‘Of course, Tuffy and his chums will be well out it.’

‘Fortuitous.’

‘I leave the matter entirely in your hands, though of course I shall be available to give consultation should you require it. Only one item of advice. Supervise the stacking like a hawk, air flow is the key to the whole enterprise.’

‘Very good, sir.’

41: Sparkwell and the fourth estate

‘Your arch enemy is in all sorts of trouble.’ So said Charlie whilst reading our great nation’s leading scandal sheet on her tablet. ‘Are we pleased?’

‘Buffy is probably just beginning to enjoy himself.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, he delights in thinking up ways of doing the opposite of what people expect, of disorientating them before going on the attack. Journalists, as well as the opposition, should always think twice before telling him there is something he can’t do.’

‘Sounds like he has ongoing authority issues.’

‘I say! There’s no call for that kind of language.’

En route to the Park, with Charlie as usual taking the wheel, I found myself ruminating on past times. ‘At our school it was a tradition, given the extensive private grounds, to give boys the opportunity to learn to drive at a ridiculously young age. However, the quid pro quo for all this, was that the Car…’

‘You don’t have to explain, I know, we had one at Beaconsfield, I was the only girl in our year’s team. We had a Moggy Minor, what did you have?’

‘A Triumph Vitesse.’

‘No way! Not a chance. I know what that is, I’ve seen under the bonnet. This is some kind of a cheat done for the posh boy’s school…’

‘Just, just... Hang on a minute. How it was done, is the whole point of the story.’

‘This had better be good.’

‘Now, originally, back in the nineteen thirties there had been an old Model T that started the tradition. It, as we know, was designed in such a way that a mechanically minded farmer stuck out in the Mid-west could do any kind of repair, ordering parts via the Sear’s catalogue or whatever! Then during the war, they moved up to a baby Austin. Post-war the school gets more ambitious, there was a Moggy at one time, a half-timbered traveller I believe…’

‘It would be.’

‘Before moving on to Minis. But by the early-eighties, the whole self-reliance, team working point of the exercise was rapidly losing relevance. Now it so happens, a new young master turns up who drives a low mileage Vitesse and parks in a carpark stuffed with Jaguars and the occasional Aston. But they are two-a-penny to the boys who have grown up with them all their lives. The new master says why not make it all about vintage, tradition etc. And offers his car, because he’s about to get one of the last TR7s - a decision he regretted for the rest of his life I think.’

‘What colour was it?’

‘Canary yellow.’

‘Not the fucking TR7...’

‘Oh, green, soft-top with red upholstery, quite close to a Great Western locomotive, Brunswick Green.’

‘Carry on.’

By this time, we had arrived and parked. ‘So, when we all arrived and started to absorb the legend, the old stable yard garage had a pit, benches down each side and a hand operated lift from an overhead joist. Our man had accumulated spares and a proper workshop manual, secondhand from a real garage - a ring binder thingy with added notes, drawings etc by real mechanics. Time passes and it becomes our turn for the Vitesse Challenge planned to last for twelve half-days, naturally competition is stiff for places, Gruber, MacIntosh and I are the core of it, but on the day, low and behold Buffy turns up, we all say “what the fuck”, after all he was already well into his Brideshead phase and didn’t know a torque wrench from a toffee apple…’

‘Nothing wrong with Evelyn Waugh.’

‘Sure, Sword of Honour and all that, but at fifteen - starting every sentence with; “My dears”, it’s a bit much.’

‘Are you seriously suggesting you stripped the entire car and put it back together?’

‘All right, but it was a damn good course with supervision; wheels, brakes, shock absorbers, electrics, the high point was to have the engine out at shoulder height, have the ritual celebration, then put the previous hours’ worth of reverse engineering into reverse, whilst we could still remember what we’d done. But my point is, Buffy…’

‘Yes, well, the whole point is to get lost, to have to share ideas, panic, tinker with parts that can tolerate a bit of tinkering. I’m not sure all that qualifies.’

‘But my point is - there really is a lot of tom boy, jolie-laide in you - Buffy, despite lounging and disporting himself all over the place the whole time, turned out to be some real use in the end. He’d started developing this thing, a leadership style I suppose, of staring intently at what’s going on, then saying once in a while; “Cat should be doing that”, or “Barmy’s best for that”. More often than not he was right. He really is the living embodiment of; “I don’t know, but I know a man who does”.’

‘Look out!’

Cat MacIntosh was heading across the carpark. ‘Are you two coming in? There’s a bit of a flap on as it happens.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Just come out of the membership committee. For the first time in ages, we are unresolved. No one forced a vote or anything, but no one really knows the guy, obviously one knows where he works, but even what he actually does is a bit of a mystery.’

‘To whom are you referring?’

‘A chap who goes by the name of Don Wooley.’

‘No! Really?’ So said Charlie with one of her smirks.

‘Never heard of him.’

‘He’s a journalist, works for that paper you delight in calling my scandal sheet. He’s an Aussie bruiser, but really rather camp with it. His by-line often has Executive Editor added, but I don’t know what that means.’

‘This is one of those situations Tony.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘What situations?’

‘Rare, but real. Where we, are stuck in our own world. We need you Charlie. What do we do?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’

‘No! So okay, we know we’re talking to the right person, now help us out.’

‘Talk, to your arch enemy, he didn’t get where he is without help.’

‘Thank you, understood. Time for a little light lunch I think.’

I found a quiet spot alone in the grounds and phoned Carrie. ‘Tony darling! How are things?’

‘Fine, excellent in fact, yourself?’

‘Oh, baring up with the best of Christian fortitude I suppose, he’s got me practicing a sort of low key first lady act, just to keep me occupied until an election date is known. What’s your problem?’

‘I need a couple of minutes chat with Buffy on a non-official, private matter.’

‘Ah, well you may be in luck, he’s here with me in the flat, changing for an early run, God knows where they’ll take him today, I’ll pass this phone over.’

After a ten second mute; ‘Anthony, good news or bad?’

‘Information required, name of Don Wooley - never heard of him until ten minutes ago.’

‘You should have.’

‘That’s why it’s you I’m bothering.’

‘Aussie journo, works for our journal of record. Has a sort of strategic brief, outsider who can see the big picture, understands the changing readership, tell them when they’re missing the target. Quite fun to read too.’

‘That explains why he’s read by my Valette then.’

‘Ha! Love it. Next question.’

‘You know she spotted Frimley at Aberdeen, half a second of video with his back to the camera.’

‘Bloody hell! Still, we got away with it. He reckons we’ll lose in court though.’

‘Then rise above it, explain nothing, question their right to judge.’

‘Goodbye Anthony.’

‘Well?’ Charlie asked as I returned to the veranda bar.

‘I managed to get hold of him, he obliged, gave a short description of what your man is.’

‘What does he recommend?’

‘He, doesn’t recommend anything, anyway the conversation never happened. If formally asked by the committee for my opinion, I shall give my opinion.’

‘Wait here, I’ll see if they want a post-lunch recommencement.’ So said Cat before scurrying off.

‘So? What will you recommend?’

‘Let the bugger in!’