148: Is that it?

I stood in the car park and waved Daphne on her way, hoping time would prove to be the great healer. Amazing how she couldn’t bring herself to blame her father even a little for dropping her in it for an entire lifetime. That she should be annoyed with me, was par for the course. I needed another drink and made straight for the bar, ignoring all and sundry, abandoning my usual caution and only looking around once I’d quenched my thirst.

‘Tony! Over here.’ Oh, lord. Vic was still here; I’d forgotten about her in all the excitement. ‘Char-lotte, let me tell you, will not, be handling anything for Tuffy. We have been having...’

‘A drink, or three?’

‘A girl’s, heart to heart, on the subject of men, and their needs. Ha!’ And there indeed was Charlie, sat meekly beside the Lady Victoria, though judging by the colour of the liquid in her glass she’d been following her normal modus operandi of not indulging! ‘We agree, she’s done all she can, Tuffy is a lost cause. I shall merely tell him to grow old gracefully, like myself. He must submit to my preferences or forego the marital bed.’

‘Right, excellent, very good.’

At which point Charlie stood up; ‘We must go Vic, we’re on a bit of a schedule, we’ll talk soon.’

‘So, it’s all off then, any thoughts of snaffling millions from Swiss bank accounts.’ Commented Charlie as she drove us homeward.

‘Archie said let it go, so I shall. Besides I have more than I could have hoped for, the meta data is vast, I can work out where my parents were, if not their motives, throughout my early years. Still, at the end of the day, can any of us truly say we know the mind of another?’

‘You mean us?’

‘I mean everyone.’

‘Don’t we all need to understand each other better? Shouldn’t we all be seeking even greater empathy?’

‘That’s very philosophical of you. But no, the answer to both your questions, is no. We just have to get on, as in like being in the presence of. Conversation, explanation is merely a way of passing the time.’

‘Very good, sir.’

Whit bank holiday Monday dawned bright and breezy, I was leisurely surveying the contents of my email when I was genuinely taken by surprise. ‘Charlie!’ I called from my seat in the media room.

‘Sir?’

‘An email from one of your co-conspirators.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘Barney Benson, sounding me out would you believe, as to whether, should I receive a formal invitation, I’d be willing to accept a seat on the board of the Gruber Foundation.’

‘But? All that fuss that Daphne made, back along.’

‘Precisely.’

‘She must have changed her mind. How? What’s happened? You must have schemed this!’

‘No, no. Unless of course she feels grateful in some way, wants to show her appreciation.’

‘What have you done for her?’

‘Well, this whole secret world thing, I may have inadvertently done the right thing. She may have come to think of herself as a victim over the years, who knows?

‘More like she wants you on the inside pissing-out, rather than on the outside pissing-in!’

Later, in the afternoon, I was at my desk when my concentration was broken once more. ‘Are we in or out?’ Said the voice behind me, adding the usual surly, ‘sir’.

‘Good gracious, is that the time already?’

‘We’ve been in the garden for hours, whilst you’ve been skiving up here.’

‘Then you’ll know whether the weather says in or out.’

‘Out, in fact tea is already on the table, I’m just here to chivvy you out.’

‘Two minutes I promise.’

‘It had better be. Master Timothy wishes to discuss what he’s uncovered at your garden centre.’ And with that she was gone.

‘I mean I realise it’s none of my business, but it’s like people are holding out on me. It must be obvious to everyone that there’s a load more going on round the back. And then there’s that funny little counter that says, “farm shop” but which only appears to open for about half an hour at the end of the day. Some days it has a fair amount of stock, but most days barely anything.’

‘Well Tim, where to begin? Firstly, be in no doubt it is a genuine garden centre, right down to all the extras that such places have added down the years. The difference is that everything sold has come from farms and other business renting land or property from the Trust. And as a business it is directly owned by the Trust and of course is on Trust land. However, there is also the warehouse owned by the Trust, but officially nothing happens there. No money actually changes hands, it’s all bartering, gifting and exchange of goods. You see, the thing is... Why are you all giving me funny looks?’

‘I promise you this is the first I’m hearing about this.’ Charlie said to the others. ‘And we’re coming up to our tenth anniversary!’

‘Yes well, the thing is, I’m taking a risk here Tim, I don’t think your “uncle”, and certainly not my uncle, appreciate quite the trick we’re pulling here.’

‘I like to think I’m my own man, sir.’

‘Good lad, and don’t you smirk young Melisa, pay attention, your father let me tell you is on a buying spree right now, he’ll hoover up every scrap of land in the county and beyond, which either the Trust or the Duchy don’t already have.’

‘So, what is going on behind the handcrafted garden furniture, scented candles and home kitchen carrot cake?’

‘Thank you, Charlie! Well, farmers have always shared and shared alike with neighbours since the year dot, but these days there are extra difficulties. The days of the family owned, middle-sized, mixed farm, where you could be anything up to fifty per cent self-sufficient, are over. Margins are so tight, if you take an evening out to dig your own veg, well you’re burning money.’

‘But the trust’s portfolio has many specialised farms, including market gardens, orchards.’

‘Your ahead of me Tim. All within a few miles of each other, not to mention the craft brewery, and a bakery which is sort of semi-artisanal!’

‘But even so, sir. The transport, time, labour of moving stuff, ordering just when you want fresh produce?’

‘Do call me Anthony, or Tony, Tim! But yes, the trick was ordering online for a delivery within twenty-four hours by the next garden centre van coming your way, or a self-pick-up from the warehouse, but even that began to be uneconomic.’

‘So?’ Said Melisa.

‘Well I might as well say, you’re all in the loop anyway whether you realise it or not. So, I picked the lowest mileage garden centre van took it to Jack’s, he fitted it out with a computer comparable in size to those in our cars, sticks one of Eltham’s dishes in the roof and gives the driver the biggest screen possible, I bang in the best off-the-shelf estimating and logistics software and send the driver off to visit every likely location, every day for a week. Then we have our own map, real times, real distances at various times of day, real fuel consumption, real cost. Then I just had to programme in compulsory refuelling at Jack’s filling station. So, any farmer can feed to the driver’s screen in real time, anytime, or speak to him if it’s some kind of override like, cut flowers and beer for someone’s birthday or whatever! The driver just follows instructions on screen and the receiver gets estimated times of arrival and hopefully a pick-up too. Talking of hope, I’ve an idea that after a full year everyone will be back to traditional seasonal behaviour...’

147: Restoration

When lounging it’s always wise to keep half an eye on the door. It may only give one a second or so to prepare oneself, but nonetheless. I was in the veranda bar at the club, enjoying a glass of the club claret to calm my nerves before meeting Daphne and whatever officials she might have trailing in her wake. The set-up for our encounter was done, but it was me alone, against the might of the British state. Charlie was excluded; it wasn’t about Murchison’s estate anymore.

‘Tony! Thank goodness. Be a love and get me a drink. I’ve been looking for you high and low, is your phone switched off?’ So said the Lady Victoria, floating forth, seemingly from nowhere.

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s Tuffy of course, who else! I swear, one day I’ll end up giving him a clip around the earhole.’

‘What?’

‘He’s become obsessed, no other word for it, with his, well one hardly knows how to say it, with his declining sexual powers shall we say.’

‘Ah, comes to us all in the end. Look, I’m sorry. Here’s your drink. Fact is, I can’t really talk right now, I’m somewhat distracted, I have a rather important meeting, scheduled to start in less than two minutes.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t mention it at all, in the normal way of things, it’s just he’s comparing himself with you, as always. Convinced that you couldn’t possibly be subject to the same aging processes as the rest of us...’

I’d drained my glass and was already moving away; ‘Tell him to consult Charlie, I’m sure she can handle it for him.’

We sat as I’d intended at the large table in the club committee room. I occupied one of the long sides with my back to the window, Daphne the short side nearest the door, whilst my two interlocutors sat opposite. However, the opportunity for conversation or argument seemed severely limited. They'd been introduced merely as Mr Legal and Mr Security.

I tried to make the silence of us all settling-in last as long as possible, ponderously laying out my documents in a line. To my far left the cavernous envelope in which my package had arrived, then the pile of photocopies of ancient documents. Next the covering letter demanding my signature and future silence. Finally, the two Swiss passports.

‘We are not here to negotiate Mr Arlington, if you just sign the top sheet and pass across the passports we can be on our way.’

‘Oh! Be reassured gentleman, I fully intend to sign and hand over the offending items. I merely need to be confident I understand what it is I’m signing for. Actually, I could have phrased that better. I understand perfectly well what I’m looking at, I just need to know I’ve made the correct interpretation.’

‘What you will sign has the legal status of what our American cousins like to call an NDA.’

‘Yes, but then there isn’t an NDA in the world that applies in the case of alleged criminal activity.’

‘I trust you’re not suggesting...’

‘No, no, how could there be, impossible for a state sponsored secret organisation working in collaboration with a foreign power, albeit a neutral one. Item one.’ I continued, picking up the envelope. ‘Postmarked Ottawa, somewhat distant for a government communication?’

‘Our Canada station, within the High Commission, British soil as it were, you notice the letterhead on the accompanying letter. In the age of the internet, we tend to farm-out rote administrative tasks to whoever is idle at the time.’

‘I see, gosh, all this transatlantic English, dear me. Still, brings us neatly to the photocopied documents themselves. Recently couriered across the border, were they? Your clerk just adding the letter and posting the whole thing to me?’

Mr Legal looked at Mr Security, then said; ‘No comment, Mr Arlington, can we get on.’

‘The coding on the bottom left of each page indicates an HP office printer about seven years old, whilst the code in the top left has been adding automatically as the previously scanned original documents, arrived electronically into the system. The code being famously, perhaps one should say notoriously, associated with a system used by the US, NSA.’

‘I am merely a lawyer, sir. We are advised of course of your commercial interests in modern tech and long association with our host’s husband.’

‘I was surprised at first how few names had been redacted, then it occurred to me, they were all codenames. The pages of the so called “visitors book” of the property purchased in my parents worknames, is most illuminating, thank you. Perhaps you’re not aware of just how much handwriting recognition software has come on in recent decades. Nor just how wide ranging my family archives have become.’ No reaction, apart from Daphne looking increasingly anxious. ‘For a couple of occasional freelancers, hired to be confidential couriers under the guise of European touring car enthusiasts, it was very generous of the secret intelligence service to provide a three-bed apartment located in the central business district of Zurich, don’t you think?’

Still no reaction. ‘Well, let me just boldly state my interpretation of a few more selected facts. Whilst my parents barely stopped overnight a couple of times a year, confirmed by the passports, and dear Kenneth stayed but once at the outset, no doubt to install all the electronics, his identity is confirmed by the way, by his actual workname appearing on the back of one of the photos in the album he left us. Forty years he seems to have struggled to get this information to whom it may concern.’ More blank faces. ‘Moving on, curious how the visitors always arrived as couples, don’t you think, the nineteen seventies, and eighties, you weren’t that much of an equal opportunity employer, were you? I say nineteen eighties because my parents died at the top of one page, but someone forgot to redact the rest of the page. Cross referencing with the personnel pages, dates and payments, it seems impossible but my virtual parents seem to have enjoyed a somewhat longer life than my actual parents! Knowing Ken as one did, his old-fashioned morals, I bet he thought he was looking at a free holiday home for a select few, with ample female company and money laundering facilities on tap. No wonder you don’t want a stab at recovering assets. Lease the place still do you, under another name?’

‘Enough! Just sign the damn thing and pass the passports over Tony, then we can all go home.’

Which of course I immediately did, there being no better barometer of my personal interest than Daphne.

‘You used me.’ She said after they’d gone, now seemingly reluctant to leave.

‘Well, they used you to get to me, I was merely returning the favour.’

‘The other people you’ve identified who used the Zurich safe house...’

‘Don’t say another word! The point is they gave me more than they needed to, more than just about the life of my parents, they snared me and I showed them I knew I’d been snared. So now we all know that if I start shouting my mouth off, I could be prosecuted under the Official Secrets Act and, or all subsequent legislation. Much the same situation as you’ve found yourself in since you achieved the age of reason. But the other side of the equation, is that they’ve given themselves, and me come to that, plausible deniability. By setting up a leak, from a no doubt disgruntled lowly clerk and wannabe whistle-blower employed by a foreign power. And I suggest that there, we let it lie.’

126: Evil under the sun

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

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

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

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

‘Explains what?’

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

‘You saw?’

‘I did indeed.’

‘It wasn’t my idea!’

‘I imagine not.’

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

‘What’s happened to the poor fellow?’

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

‘Our railway?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Alas, pressure of work.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Evil Under The Sun, was one!’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Great, Charlie helped me out.’

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

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

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

‘What? Free, gratis and for nothing.’

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

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

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

‘Of course, no worries.’

‘Young Timothy not with you today?’

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

‘Glad to hear it.’

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

‘So much so obvious.’ I replied.

‘What?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘That was, brutal but effective Tony.’

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

117: The art of travel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He means the attic, right?’ I asked.

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

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

‘Oh! Right.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Certainly not!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Not that I recall.’

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

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

‘I imagine so.’

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

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

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

‘Me?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of season nine

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.’

96: The art of trash

As autumn slowly closed upon us and we all adjusted to life under the new King, The Beacon announced, in an exclusive, our former prime minister’s future intentions. It seemed the Don had secured the rights to the story of Buffy’s premiership, to be told in a series of two-hour interviews for The Don Wooley Podcast. It had already been some weeks since the Park committee had approved and adopted the proposed changes to it’s media room. I rather assumed both Buffy as well as Wooley would want to use it. I was at a loss to know why they hadn’t been in contact, surely, they didn’t think I’d be willing to bid for their presence? They’d have to take their chances with the booking system and pay the going rate. Ditto the idea of regularly broadcasting the podcast.

There were other things on my mind at the time. Even if railway building was going to be a sometime, maybe never kind of a plan, I still needed to get sorted title to the properties, and what of Mr Tufnell senior’s other possessions? Having scanned what was required from the diaries and notebooks, I decided to return them via Victoria at the gallery. ‘We’re off to the New Realist Gallery today.’ I announced, assuming my paramour was present; ‘I’m hoping you can distract Tuffy.’

‘Again! What’s the sleight of hand this time?’

‘Oddly enough, the aim is not to confuse Tuffy.’

‘Can we include some refreshment at the cafe? I need to consult Captain Bob about the shelter committee.’

‘Yours to command.’

We were both staring in disbelief so long, Tuffy actually came out onto the pavement to see what was wrong. There in the window, given pride of place was one of those hideous constructions one is forced to witness for a month or so every year whilst walking the promenade. ‘Enjoying our modern trash?’ He enquired.

‘Enjoying is hardly the word. It sits below your shop sign which clearly states, New Realist Gallery! What’s going on? Vic has no truck with modern art!’

‘We’ve just hired out the window for the month, nice little earner, fact is this is the “Start Here”, for the trail.’

‘What, all the cringe art on the front is meant to be viewed in sequence?’

‘It’s themed, apparently. Telling the story of climate change through recycling.’

‘You know it doesn’t matter how well crafted this stuff is, it’s still the result of dustbin diving. It still leaves general public on a downer, feeling depressed about the world. Where do these artist’s get their cash? Can’t believe anyone buys this kind of thing.’

‘One of the arts bodies I suppose, maybe it’s the council.’

‘Come on, let’s go inside.’

Almost immediately we were confronted by Victoria saying; ‘What brings you here Tony?’ Charlie hadn’t yet had the opportunity to get Tuffy out of the way.

‘Well,’ I said, ‘we were sort of wondering why we hadn’t heard from you about getting underway with sorting the older generations possessions. Needs some planning, right?’

‘Rather distracted by the solicitors at the moment,’ said Tuffy. ‘I’m a bit disappointed about assets and all that, to tell the truth. Mother doesn’t seem to have left much in terms of cash. Well, less than expected on that front anyway.’

I saw an opening and took a chance. ‘Ah! Well, I may have good news then. Here are your father’s diaries returned, all in good order.’

‘Where did you get them?’

‘From the study of course, hope I wasn’t out of order, you did say you couldn’t make them out. I have to tell you they’re not in code, but written using your father’s own abbreviations and shorthand, a few minutes spent rereading the half a dozen or so letters he sent me during his lifetime, got me familiar with his script again.’

‘I didn’t know father wrote to you.’

‘Oh yes, I treasure them to this day, he did a lot to buck me up in hard times. Anyway, it allowed me to make some sense of the property deeds.’

‘What deeds?’

‘Well, at first, I couldn’t understand why the last time I saw your mother, she insisted I take this bunch of keys, here, there you go, you’d better take charge of them now. That one, opens a safety deposit box at our bank, guess what was inside?’

‘Cash?’

‘Alas, no. Only title deeds to sixty-seven bits of property across the county.’

‘My God! I knew it. I knew father wouldn’t have let us down in the end. Where are these deeds?’

‘Oh! Perfectly safe, in my safe at the villa. You can pick them up on your way to your next appointment with the solicitors, it’s still old Blythe, isn’t it?’

‘If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you’d thrown in the towel. Also, you know Bernard gave me a crash course in Wills and Executors before Bob’s was finalised - well property is property, not possessions!’

‘So then, I’ll give you one clue, what did I say when I first opened the letter with Mary’s Will in it?’

‘Oh! For goodness’ sake, I can’t remember trivia like that!’

It was still warm enough for the good Captain’s crowd to be sitting out at the Harbour Cafe, though the man himself had yet to turn up. We took a table just along from the old sea dogs. ‘There’s something Bob wants to put to you.’

‘Oh, yes?’

‘He can explain better than me. You know a while ago you said when we were at the shelter about distancing ourselves from the council and how I should take a closer look at the Trust’s property portfolio.’

‘I see, I think.’

‘Well, he has a proposal.’

‘So, this is a set-up, you lured me here.’

‘Absolutely! Sir.’

‘Just the man I want to see.’

‘And good morning to you too.’

‘Charlie has explained, has she?’

‘Only that she hasn’t the bottle and that you’ll do the explaining.’

‘Age, authority, has certain benefits, ask the King! And it is a matter of public record, the ownership of property.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘You see, our problem is, we’ll never be able to satisfy the demand for beds the way things are, the recession, cost of living and everything. We want to drop the council in it, force them to act. More or less do a moonlight flit, declare that we’re now a specialist charity for those who are homeless because of enduring mental health issues and just need to be outside a lot of the time. We can’t keep trying to deal with the whole range of problems that turn up at the moment and which really only have political solutions.’ Then he hesitated a moment before saying; ‘Myself, and a couple of the ex-marines who have become regulars at the shelter have been up to see The Grange, that is the property you were thinking of I take it?’

‘Yes, just because of the naval connection really, it overlooks the sea, just five minutes walk from the harbour side, but with enough seclusion, enough of a garden. Plus, the little lodge come gatehouse thing.’

‘Great minds think alike. And you must know the history of the place. My lads were very impressed with your security and the way the outside is maintained. Took them a good five minutes to find the alternative method of access, so to speak. So, anyway, we had a good look at the house from the garden, they appreciated immediately the way it was built. Funny, there’s always a tension on board a ship, between the captain and a detachment of marines, they have to submit to our authority, but they’re land lovers confined, isolated if you like, no purposeful work to do. Anyway, my point is they get the house, especially when I explained it was originally designed and built for an ex-admiral. Given it’s been a care home latterly, how much can we put back?’

‘Well, now you’re putting me on the spot, asking specific questions, in a public place. This is where I go into, official “negotiating on behalf of the Trust” mode, I’m afraid. If you want a more informal chat about these wild imaginings, then fix a date with Charlie to come up to the Villa, for tea, alone!’

94: Funeral

‘Today I fear, is going to be one of those days.’

‘What days?’

‘Where I end-up taking charge, without trying or wanting to, and Tuffy much to his own annoyance, ends up being caught in the cross fire because he can’t see to get out of the way.’

‘Well, just make sure I’m told what I need to know, when I need to know it.’

‘Full dress, valette uniform please. And I must be in a black tie and as low key as possible. I don’t know, but I suspect I’ll be “sir-ing” as much as you today!’

It was nice to be attending an old-fashioned church funeral. The same church that I’d last attended to see Prudence married, and where some fifteen years before we’d said goodbye to Tuffy’s father.

‘Where on earth have you been?’ Demanded our host at the west door.

‘We’re not late, are we?’

‘No darling, spot on actually.’ Interceded his wife.

‘We’ve got a church full of people and I don’t recognise any of them!’

‘Friends of your mother presumably.’

‘She saw practically no one after father died.’

‘Well, friends of your father then, here out of respect.’

‘I don’t remember any of them from father’s funeral.’

‘Well, we were both a bit out of it that day. Your mother stepped-up to the mark and handled formalities.’

‘They are all of about her age Tony.’ Added Lady Victoria.

‘Right.’

‘How did you know to dress like that?’ Tuffy was being accusative again.

‘Er, look, do you mind if Charlotte and I sit up front with family?’ I said turning again to the better half.

‘Of course not, Tony.’

‘Well, as we seem to be the last, follow us.’ I said and moved forward pausing only when level with the first backs of heads, and consequently blocked the others behind us. A few seconds was enough, I spied some of Mr Tufnell’s business cronies and rivals, local dignitaries, I chose one sat about half way down the nave.

Placing a gentle arm on his shoulder, and whispering as if he were slightly deaf, I said; ‘Good to see you sir, there’s a grand tea at the house later, all of Mary’s former dinner guests welcome.’

When we were seated Victoria, whispered; ‘What are you playing at, I’m only set-up for about half a dozen at the house! There must be fifty of these wrinklies.’

‘Fear not, they’ll self-select, only a handful will turn up.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Remember our conversation at the gallery? We need them.’ And then the music stopped.

Half way through the second reading my device pinged. Well, its only set up to tell me what I need to know, so I checked it, a text from Archie with a link to the Palace site, a sort of ‘be prepared’ health bulletin, I decided to tell no one.

Back in the fresh air, Victoria suggested I take her place next to Tuffy. I said; ‘Right, you greet them, thank them for coming and point out where in the churchyard, if anything else needs saying, I’ll say it.’

‘Thanks, old man.’

There were three of them, plus the gentleman I’d spoken to, who, once upon a time, had been the last Town Clerk and first Chief Executive of the Bay Council - we’re slow to change in these parts! They all said, in their own way, what a wonderful hostess Mary had been. I chipped in with; ‘You are coming back to the house Mr...'

As Sparkwell and I returned to the car, I speculated; ‘Amazing, is it greed, avarice, a sense of fun? Four men prepared to admit they know Mr Tufnell’s great secret, knowing I’m their last best chance.’

‘Well, at their age, they can’t be in it for anything but the game!’

‘Tuffy, I wonder if I might be permitted to show our guests your father’s study? Ideal for a little reminiscence therapy I should think, I might even be able to offload some of your father’s more obscure books, for a fair price of course.’

You could see the confusion, the desire to be relieved of these people, the fear I might be getting one over on him. ‘Oh, yes, naturally old man.’

‘We’ll let you entertain the ladies.’

A few minutes later I was able to say; ‘Gentlemen, welcome to the treasure house of Omar Khayyam!’

‘We’re none of us bookish Anthony, as you well know. Still, good enough ruse I suppose.’ So said Gerald.

‘Soak up the atmosphere everyone, whilst I find another chair.’ When we’d settled, I continued; ‘I imagine you’ve all been here before?’

‘Oh no, we were never allowed this far.’ Said the ex-Town Clerk.

‘Really. Anyway, let me brief you over the Will. Tuffy gets the house and cash, however; the possessions are to be shared out between Tuffy and myself.’

‘Well, at least that keeps the idiot son out of it.’ Said Gerald.

‘But I feel duty bound to inform you that, with Mary’s blessing, Mr Tufnell’s diaries and address books, all his vital numbers, are currently in my safe at the Villa, along with the entire contents of the anonymous safety deposit box.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Groaned Brian.

‘I could send my boys round!’ Asserted Jack.

‘Jack, your boys and I were at school together until age thirteen, if you sent them round, we’d just be sat at the kitchen table drinking tea and reminiscing about the fights we’d had on the playground tarmac.’

‘Really Jack, you should make an effort to stay informed. Anthony is, Mr Electronic Surveillance, saying it’s all in his safe is like saying it’s all in Fort Knox!’

‘Besides, my girl could flatten the lot of us.’

‘She knows?!’ Said Brian, alarmed this time.

‘As of today, only the absolute minimum. I’ve cut her out as much as possible.’

‘Good lad. Now then Anthony, what do you know of Mr Tufnell’s business affairs?’ Said the local bureaucrat.

‘Not much, which is why we’re sat here. He was a trader, buying and selling wholesale, modest bits of import, export. My interest was only aroused when I realised, he was living a lot more modestly than he needed to.’

‘Does the British Railways Property Board, open brackets, nineteen forty-seven, close brackets, Limited, mean anything to you?’ Asserted Brian.

‘Er, well, trying to remember my modern history, stage one of a nationalisation scheme, bring the property of all railway companies, and what was on that property, under the control of a single private company, which just happened to be owned one hundred per cent by the Crown.’

‘Very good. Now what do you imagine that included in our neck of the woods?’

‘He means within the relevant local authority boundary of the time.’ Added the public administrator.’

‘Blimey! As my partner would say. All the track and adjacent land, stations, locomotive depots, maybe the quarries from which the stone to build the railway came from, or at least the documents relating to change of ownership. Oh, was the grand intended retirement home of the great engineer owned by the company? And the end of the line, not only the station but the quay, and on the other side of the river too. But then the nineteen seventy-three local government act changes the boundaries. Where is this all leading?’

‘Ha! You’re the university educated one, now what happen when the railway decided to sell-off bits of land?’ Brian continued.

‘I was told this one quite recently, the preservationists were mad as hell, they wanted time to raise cash, but bits were sold almost instantly to local authorities.’

‘And what would we call that, Anthony?’ Said the quietly spoken local government officer.

‘Creative accounting. Selling something to yourself, given the amount of central government grant to local councils, to make closing railways look like good cost saving. Look, you’d better cut to the chase before the Lady Vic gets suspicious.’

They all looked at each other for a moment or two. ‘Your father bought property to boost the income of your Trust, okay?’ Said Gerald.

‘Yes.’

‘But his mate Tufnell got a bee in his bonnet about that guy who was brought in to shut railways. He spent his spare cash on every bit of ex-railway land he could find between our cathedral city and where the old transatlantic liners used to tie-up! Including, from some local councils, some of whom, were more than happy to oblige.’

Then Brian continued with; ‘Governments today seem increasingly interested in opening-up old lines; they imagine it will be as easy to get old land, as it is to get new land but...’

‘They’re in for a great big fucking surprise!’ Interrupted Jack.

85: Picture perfect

‘Why am I doing this?’ Charlie complained as we sat at our side-by-side desks in the media room.

‘Because Julia asked you to.’

‘But I’m not a journalist, not even a photographer, just the trigger man for whatever you set up.’

‘It’s a picture feature Charlie, really only extended captions. The Countrywoman magazine’s first ever opportunity to upstage Hello!’

‘Then why aren’t you doing it, at least you understand what’s required?’

‘It has to be your voice, the one the readers are familiar with, I can polish it later.’

‘You know my voice, why not the other way around?’

‘Well, sometimes I’m not sure I do, I mean, a lot of the time you’re reacting to me, throwing back my expressions and attitudes, the uppity servant as you’ve expressed it in the past... I know! You said it was the best day, well what we need is your emotional response to the unfolding events. They’re your photos, what did you feel, in the decisive moment?’

Five minutes later. ‘Don’t we have somewhere we ought to be?’

‘Only when you’ve finished. We’ll drop by the gallery and buy Tuffy out, of his stock of cheapo picture frames.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, we have a goodly collection of souvenir editions of The Beacon now, I think we should display them, show off your accomplishments.’

‘You really do take after your Aunt Elisabeth, only whilst she was showing off the rest of her family and hiding your notoriety, you want the whole world to know!’

‘Actually, they’ll have to be somewhere fairly discrete otherwise the newsprint will fade.’

‘How about the loo?’

‘Too damp.’

‘We could display nice prints of the pictures that have found their way into The Beacon. There, done! On your screen any second.’

‘Okay, I see it, I’ll save it for later, lets get some fresh, sea air.’

‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life; told I was letting the side down. They even had the gall to question my patriotism. They said now was not the time to criticise Buffy on account of him spearheading the international response to the threat to freedom in eastern Europe. Mackintosh was no help, said most of my evidence was inadmissible since the premises were hired out to others at the time.’

‘How’s your mother?’

‘Alright, I suppose. She’s got me going through father’s things with a fine toothcomb, as it happens.’

‘I always admired her sense of humour.’

‘Mother? What can you mean?’

‘Understated.’

‘Anyway, all his diaries seem to be written in some kind of code! Can’t make head nor tail of them.’ Then, looking at what we were holding; ‘You really could do better with frames you know.’

‘Oh, they’re just for newspaper cuttings, Charlie’s growing fame and fortune, don’t you know.’

‘Tony! How are you?’ Said the Lady Vic, rising from her subterranean office and billowing forth. ‘There’s something I want to show you next door, you’ll keep Charlotte company won’t you darling?’

‘Of course.’

‘Actually, I don’t have anything to show you.’ She said when we were alone. ‘I just wanted a word in confidence.’

‘Carry-on.’

‘This business about mother-in-law’s goods and chattels, what’s that all about? Has the potential to put old friends at loggerheads seems to me.’

‘Well, I’ve not actually spoken to her on the subject. But she has confessed in the past to not really understanding her late husband’s business affairs. She knows Tuffy never took an interest, but I did of course. He was, in the absence of my father, a bit of a role model, a mentor if you will.’

‘So, I understand.’

‘He did rather well in his time. She wants to do right by him, needs someone she knows who cares, to go through everything and make sure nothing useful or valuable is well, lost. It’s not that Tuffy doesn’t care, just that he can be a bit careless, at times.’

‘You really don’t need to be so diplomatic with me, darling. We do go back a long way. For example, Tuffy really doesn’t need to be so coy about his affection for Charlotte, anyone who can calm him down gets my vote.’

‘Quite, well it may be that at the end of the day I just come away with half a dozen of his father’s first editions, but it would be tragic if we all missed out on assets hidden away amongst his papers.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure we can keep him straight. Let’s go back.’ When we re-emerged, Tuffy could be seen helping Charlie carry the frames to the car. ‘He’s genuinely happy you know, being my general factotum.’

‘I believe it, he knows he’s useful. A rare thing in his life.’

‘Well, if you’re having The Beacon on display, I insist on having copies of my Countrywoman articles, they have nice illustrations as well as the woodcut of my masthead.’

‘Done. And location?’

‘Put them, in date order, starting on the far side of the hall, then they can creep up the stairs.’

‘Okay.’ Then the doorbell rang, it happened I was closest for once.

It was Melisa; ‘Can we talk?’

‘Of course, come on through.’

‘Mummy is being a pain, again. She wants me to stay at school and go into their sixth form. I was thinking of the college. You’re the only one who can bring her to heal. Congratulations by the way Charlotte, the whole town is talking about your coup with the royals. Mummy says the council are hopping mad, might bring them to their senses.’

‘Take a seat, let me ruminate a moment.’

‘Tea on the patio? Ten minutes?’ Suggested Charlie.

‘Excellent. Now then. Ah, I’ve got it. By the way, you should be looking towards your father when it comes to such matters, he understands the academic better.’

‘Daddy is in Boston, presenting his final report to his American controllers.’

‘Really! Now then, the key point is that the only really legitimate excuse for favouring the college at the end of the day is it’s size, it must be the one place offering the subjects, you need. Perhaps even the subjects insisted upon by your chosen universities - whether you end up going is another matter entirely of course. See what I’m saying?’

‘God! That’ll mean working through the whole damn prospectus and cross referencing to who knows what.’

‘It’s two years of your life! And if you can possibly bear it, it’s the subject you really want to do, plus English and Maths ‘A’ level.’

‘Boring.’

‘You’ll get the benefit. It’s more than likely that by the time you reach the age of forty, your life will be dominated by running the Gruber Foundation, or whatever your father decides to turn himself into in his declining years.’

‘God, don’t you just hate it when Tony is right all the time, Charlotte?’ Said Melisa.

‘Don’t answer that, Charlie.’ Interceded Kenneth as we were all enjoying tea, el fresco. ‘Tony’s aunt, my dear friend, who used to own this place, allowed herself to get far too worked-up about him.’

‘One extra thing to remember Mel, the real deadline is not until the end of the summer, the first week of term in fact. You don’t actually need to have your preferred solution in place until then. You did say Boston? Not Washington and the Pentagon?’

‘Yes. Home next week.’

‘Tony and Melisa’s father are old rivals, Ken.’ Said Charlie.

‘But friendly, always on the same side at the end of the day.’

‘My other pain is this compulsory week-long end of term, work experience, mentoring nonsense. If I don’t come up with something, the school will dump me somewhere ghastly.’

‘Do I take it from your comments earlier, that you approve of the night shelter?’

‘My god! Tony, that’s brilliant! You couldn’t fix it for me, could you Charlotte?’

75: The long day out

‘It never seems right, seeing the river so full of pleasure craft.’

‘Daphne! Yes indeed, never more stylish than when the Navy dominated.’

‘I think one of my ancestors was invited to review the college, before World War One.’ Chipped in Barmy.

‘Ah, one forgets, it wasn’t until the first decade of the twentieth century, that the British press started painting Germany as the enemy.’

We were all on the ferry crossing the river, to the one railway station in Britain that never had any tracks.

‘So, you see Mel, what is now a cafe, once had a booking office where you could buy a ticket to anywhere in the country.’

‘I’ve brought your book back.’

‘Excellent. I anticipated such an outcome and have brought along a new volume.’

‘More adventures?’

‘Of a slightly different kind. A book about Sherlock Holmes, written by a female PhD in psychology. Here, let’s do a swap right now, whilst we’re out of sight.’

‘God! Isn’t it going to be a bit advanced?’

‘I doubt it. I don’t know what the adults say about teenage frustrations these days, in my day everything was blamed on puberty, anyway don’t listen to any of it, your frustrations are about having an underused brain.’

‘You are terribly politically incorrect Tony.’

‘Oh, thank you very much.’

‘Mummy has taken charge of the packed lunches, could do with a drink right now. I bet they’ll snag all the wine for themselves.’

‘Ah, now, there’s a point. I should tell you on the quiet. Your father has never had a good head for alcohol, perhaps your mother is concerned you might have inherited it, apart from the fact that the female frame is smaller and therefore glass for glass, more susceptible to intoxication. Of course, she could also be worried about the prospect of man overboard. Anyway, how did you find the Adventures?’

‘Great. The opening story made me think of Daddy’s alleged grand connections, they came from Bohemia, born on the wrong side of some royal bed. Not the Grubers, obviously, his mother’s side.’

‘Hereditary bastards of Bohemia, sounds like a good title for a book, well, well, not the kind of ancestors to shout about.’

‘Is it true Grandpa used to be a spook?’

‘Snooper, not spook, well that’s the rumour, never actually had it confirmed. It is your mother’s father we’re talking about?’

‘Yes, he always says he was a civil servant. So, what’s a snooper then?’

‘Ah, well. First there were codebreakers, reaching back into the mists of time. Then add in military signals intelligence, Morse code and all that. Then whole networks of electric telegraphs, telephones, radio and finally the internet, all to be snooped upon.

‘Grandpa’s never been much of a one for tinkering.’

‘No, he, allegedly, got involved with how to interpret the product. Thing is, in recent times the US and UK have had the capacity to eavesdrop on all electronic communications from around the globe. So much data, that you have to come up with a system for the computers to filter it all for you. Then, how do humans set about interpreting what might or might not, be a threat...’ We were interrupted by a shout from over yonder.

‘I say! Are you two coming?’ It was Tuffy, gesturing from the riverboat. Everyone else it seemed was already on board.

‘Tuffy seems excited about his day out.’

‘Too excited. He’s taken to carrying his father’s hipflask.’ So said the Lady Vic.

‘Thank goodness it’s a small one, he hasn’t got his grandfather’s snuff box on him?’

‘Oh, I’ve not heard about that.’

‘Tried it at school once, but only the once.’

‘The thing is, he indicated he’s not too clever on boats, you’re not in a position to elaborate I suppose?’

‘I can’t ever remember being on boat with Tuffy.’

We made steady, one might say sedate, progress up the estuary, nonetheless a bit of a cross wind did give us a slight roll, along with the wakes of passing craft. Cat was getting into his stride as a tour guide. After a lengthy discourse on the naval college, taking us well passed the actual location itself, he barely had time to catch his breath before starting his preamble to our view of Greenway. Given Christie lived a long time, and indeed grew-up just down the road, there was a certain logic to giving a potted biography before the river narrowed and we came alongside the place she spent her declining years.

‘Looks like some sort of river crossing here.’ Said Walpole.

‘Oh, indeed. In modern times there always seems to have been a local boatman willing to ferry people across. But the village on the west bank has at least a thousand-year history, part of the church was started in Norman times, the tides are quite strong but at low tides it’s the last point on river that’s fordable, that’s why the village existed, why there was a road on which to build Greenway.’

‘One would never think it.’

‘Fords are often built-up and straightened artificially with river gravels, have to be maintained of course, remarkable how deep you can take a coach and four...’

Then suddenly he interrupted me; ‘I say, that Tufnell fellow is looking rather green about the gills.’

‘Serve him right for drinking too much.’

‘You know I once had cause to view the body of a man who died from poisoning, he had just that kind of distorted face.’

Sure enough, a moment or two later there was the sound of retching, and the sight of Tuffy bent over the side. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Charlotte.

‘No Charlie, let him be, he’s Vic’s responsibility now.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. Discretion being the better part of valour and all that.’

‘Very good, sir.’

After what seemed like hours, there was a palpable feeling of relief all round when we finally made landfall.

Cat marshalled us on the quayside; ‘Let’s stick together till the river bridge, then I can show you where we’ll be picked-up.’

‘The railway sidings used to run as far as here.’ I said, falling in with Walpole again; ‘Shame the preservationists of the other line going towards the Moor, never thought of including it.’

‘That would have meant permissions, in and out of the BR station in two directions, unthinkable at the time.’

‘Alas.’

‘Alack.’

‘Now then,’ said Cat pausing to address us all. ‘The bus will be on the hotel side of the road, access to the castle is via the main street, follow me group.’ And with that he promptly turned away, with our erstwhile neighbour taking his arm. Charlie and I followed behind. I’d previously decided there was no getting out of it.

A minute or two later my loyal confederate whispered in my ear; ‘Don’t look round but we’re not being followed!’

I waited until we were passing under the famous archway before looking back down the hill. With the exception of Mrs Walpole looking in a gift shop window, there was no sign of anybody.

Sparkwell and I sat side by side on the park bench outside the entrance to the castle. Having consumed our cans of red wine with the beef sandwiches whilst on the boat, we now rewarded ourselves with the cheese sarnies and water!

‘You do realise we have less sex than we used to.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Well neither had I. It only came to me by accident.’

‘It doesn’t bother you?’

‘No. Well, not until I started wondering about whether it should. It’s kind of unfamiliar territory to me, being with someone for so long. I mean, I’d heard from others that things drop off.’

‘An unfortunate turn of phrase. Fact is, this is all rather unfamiliar to me too.’

We were prevented from further discussion by Cat and his companion emerging from the castle. She was saying; ‘So, the proper beacon hills to the west and east are both higher but out of sight, because we are lower than the surrounding hills, despite being at the high point in the valley. Is that what you are saying?’