130: I never signed up for this

‘There’s been a big row at the first meeting to start the Foundation.’ Said Melisa, as the four of us were settling in for a tea break. I was beginning to admire the way she would bring quite personal issues to the table, seeking a variety of opinion.

‘Really?’

‘I was dragged along; I can hardly think why. Your Bernard and Brinkley were advising on how it should be set-up.’

‘How was it resolved?’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘What precisely was the row about?’

‘Well, membership of the board. We were told we needed a solicitor, an accountant, Mum and Dad, myself, Bel when the time was right, and independent advisors. Someone financial, but not directly connected with us, and well, also someone with experience of running this sort of thing, but who has the interests of the family at heart.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘Well, it was obvious to me, Bernard and er, Lawrence yeah?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Dad just said fine, no problem.’

‘But?’

‘Mum said; “It doesn’t seem at all obvious to me.” What else, oh yes; “Don’t we know him only too well.” And; “He’s already got my husband and daughter wrapped around his little finger!” I told you, she’s mad.’

‘I’m afraid she’s always seen me as, not quite a gentleman.’

‘But that’s precisely what we need. Someone on our side who can see others coming.’

‘With the Trust, Tony is always seen as a bit flash, a leader who needs to be reined in a bit by the rest of us, it works remarkably well.’

‘Thank you, Charlie!’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean.’

‘But then, I must just tell you, Dad pipes up and says to the whole meeting; “My wife once dated Tony, thirty years ago, I’ve never quite understood what caused the breach.” Mother of course just gave him one of her looks, I said something like, but mother you turn to Tony as a friend as much as anyone.’

‘And?’

‘She responded by saying; “I’ll veto any such suggestion of bringing Tony on board, until I’ve vetted him, and maybe even then. Fools rush in, where angels fear to tread.” And that was that.’

‘I’ll stand by for the third degree then.’

‘Interesting choice of word that, “vetted”. But none of my business really, so I’ll ask the awkward question, what does Daphne have against you?’ Said Kenneth.

‘Oh! Not your theory that Daphne was some sort of recruiting sergeant for her father surely? Besides, Daphne just thought I wasn’t good enough for her, too much ducking and diving, too much on the make. Come on, let’s get back to the garden.’

Being vetted by Daphne, inevitably meant buying her lunch at the club. ‘How’s Barmy, behaving himself for once?’

‘Oh, yes. Been very thoughtful about Daddy.’

‘Melisa seems to be holding up well.’

‘Yes, yes. Look Tony, I’ve had to put my foot down, with everyone who will be associated with the Foundation, said I’d veto any attempt to bring you onto the board. They all thought you an obvious choice.’

‘Such is your right. Though even I think I’d be an obvious choice.’

‘It just wouldn’t do, would it? You’d have us all dancing to your tune.’

‘Would I?’

‘Of course. Buffy was right, all those years ago.’

‘What on earth has he got to do with anything?’

‘He was the one who warned me off you at university.’

‘Good God! He and I have been arch enemies since school, he’ll rubbish me to anyone, to this very day.’

‘He called you a puppeteer, a manipulator, willing to bend any rules for you and yours.’

‘Tell me, did you pass on this intelligence to your handler?’

‘Who?’

‘Daddy!’

‘There were no secrets between us, I asked his advice about everything.’

‘And took it?’

‘Naturally.’

‘But he was a secretive manipulator by profession. Do you remember where we actually first met?’

‘At the meet and greet for the Burton Society, Daddy recommended it as a club to join.’

‘Daphne, whatever I am, you and Barmy and Melisa are definitely part of me and mine, okay? No one gets to choose when or where they are born, their sex, their parents, upbringing and precious little about their education and peers. It is the stuff of adolescent discontent. Your father was a part of the secret world, where a degree of deception was mandatory. Now tell me, all those dozens of occasions when you’ve asked me to explain Barmy’s activities to you, was that genuine bewilderment or had Daddy given you a list of questions?’

‘Of course not! Daddy liked you, though he did look genuinely shaken when he heard how you and Barmy had hacked Downing Street, NATO and the global summit.’

‘And ever after his former employer has been courting Barmy into becoming the secret world’s leading techno head?’

‘You know I can’t talk about that.’

‘Well, let’s leave it there, you know I’m always available to you, as and when.’

‘Thank you.’

A while later Charlie had me on my back in the treatment room, in a state of deep relaxation. In such altered states, just letting go, one is likely to ramble unselfconsciously and without inhibition; ‘How’s the coup going by the way?’

‘I’ve been applying your rule of ensuring it’s only chicken feed one gives away and not the crown jewels.’

‘Excellent.’

‘It looks like Barney Benson is on course to chair both the Trust and the Gruber Foundation in the future. I think he was hoping you’d be there to help out with both.’

‘What Daphne wants, Daphne will always appear to get.’

‘You mean I’ll be opening our door for her, and Barmy, and Melisa as much as ever?’

‘Oh, I should think so.’

‘Think or know?’

‘Know. Habits are hard to break. My influence will persist.’

‘Power without responsibility?’

‘One can always avoid trouble, if you can run fast enough.’

‘Well, I know I can, not sure about you!’

‘I was speaking metaphorically. Someone is always about to get in the neck, but not us. We live in strange times, surrounded by strange people, talking of which how’s Captain Bob?’

‘You don’t miss a trick, do you?’

‘I try not to.’

‘I talked to him about patrons and sponsors; Archie’s royal connection and Benson’s connection to money looking for a home.’

‘And the upshot?’

‘Royal Oak is drafting a letter to update our one-time royal visitors; well, they did say we should keep them informed.’

‘A word or two of strategic advice. You are writing out of courtesy and respect. Don’t give the least impression you might be looking for money, indeed you could suggest that’s all taken care of, and certainly not coming from public funds. They are already paying for several mental health projects themselves. In fact, try not to want anything. Literally inform, briefly remind them of what they said on their visit, give an update, then links to the new website. A brief letter, which you’ll call just a note, though typed on your official notepaper and signed by Captain Bob RN. When the flunkey decides, he must show it to HRH, he’ll respond; ‘What do they want?’ The flunkey will be forced to reply; ‘Nothing, sir.’ Then it will be; “Oh, what are they up to these days?” And you’re in.’

‘So, what do we want then?’

‘To demonstrate you’re a success, where it’s at, you want them, to want to be associated, with you!’

Then after a long pause I found myself saying; ‘I feel like I never signed up for any of this?’

‘This what?’

‘Everything.’

‘Well, if you didn’t, I most certainly did not. We’ve been carried along by events.’

‘Perhaps I should take a step back, going forward. I could become a guru, a holy man even.’

‘To whom, sir?’

‘Everyone.’

‘You’re too egotistical, it would rapidly turn into a cult. Your job is to keep me satisfied. Everyone else can just, join the queue.’

‘Very well, Sparkwell. I’ll keep calm, and you can carry-on.’

End of season ten

129: A book lover's book

I’d known it was a mistake the moment I’d agreed to it months earlier. I only had myself to blame. I’d allowed myself to be persuaded by Kenneth. He’d said how difficult he now found reading and perhaps I’d like to take over leading the Boxing Day book club. Then I’d found myself under pressure to choose a book so as to give the others time to read it. Of course, I’d just snatched an old favourite from the shelves. Now I only had a few days left to work out the case for possibly the unlikeliest bestseller of all time when it was first published over fifty years ago. I comforted myself with the thought that it was short. I’d read the author’s other works, knew a lot of biographical detail, but all the same. The only thing clear, was that the title needed explanation, I decided to start with that.

‘I suppose you’ll be expecting another Aunt Elisabeth tea?’ Said Charlie, breaking in on my thoughts.

‘It’s not me, it’s the others.’

‘Yeah, yeah. You just don’t have the will to refuse them.’

Melisa was kind enough to deliver Kenneth, and surprised me by accepting his invitation to sit in. He began by introducing me; ‘Tony’s choice today is, blessedly, a very short book and unusually for us biographical in nature, a book of selected correspondence. But I know it’s a book lover’s book, I read it first, oh, longer ago than I care to remember. Tony.’

‘Thank you, Kenneth. I think what caused me to reach for this volume was the sense that the author would have felt entirely at home in the modern world of the Internet and social media. She’d undoubtedly have been an influencer. Her lack of formality, her brevity, despite being a professional writer, is of course in sharp contrast to the recipient of her letters. Even her choice of typefaces is redolent of today. I think I can best be of service by saying something of the historic context of the book. 84, Charing Cross Road was just a small bookshop in a sea of bookshops, large and small, in nineteen forty-nine. Even more than twenty years later, when Helene Hanff finally got her wish to visit London, the Charing Cross Road was where everyone went, when in search of books that could not be found on a WH Smith bookstall. If a book was still in print then the giant Foyles had it, or at least they could get it for you. If out of print, then you could trawl the street for a good, clean copy. I regret to report that today, 84, Charing Cross Road is a McDonalds. Although it rates a blue plaque on the wall. The average time spent in that fast-food chain was once calculated as seven minutes! I imagine all of us have spent longer browsing in a bookshop. Now, who’d like to start the discussion?’

‘She implies she was more or less starving in her New York garret, is that true?’

‘Yes, but there was an element of choice to it, her first love was Broadway. She was for decades determined to be a playwright. And was singularly unsuccessful. 84, was her second book. The first was Underfoot In Showbusiness, an autobiographical account of her struggles.’

‘It’s often portrayed as a love story. Do you think she was in love with Frank Doel, despite them never meeting?’

‘No, I think they were pen pals, her love was for the England of English literature, he facilitated that. I think you need to understand how much of an autodidact Helene was. As a result of educating herself via the public libraries of Philadelphia and New York, she stumbled on the work of Arthur Quiller-Couch and allowed herself to be led by him.’

‘Quiller-Couch was a professor of English Literature at Cambridge.’ Said the lady who used to work at the library. ‘He was a Cornishman of course, but partly educated in our county. Everyone called him Q.’

‘He was keen that everyone should approach literature through the language used, how it was grounded in the real world around them, so great emphasis on biography and historical context.’ I commented.

At this point the ex-librarian opened her copy of 84 at a page she’d marked and said; ‘February 9th 1952, she’s talking of Walton’s Lives, I quote; “Q quoted enough of it so I know I’ll like it. Anything he liked I’ll like, except if it’s fiction. I never can get interested in things that didn’t happen to people who never lived.” End quote. Bit of a challenge to our little group, don’t you think Tony?’

‘Indeed. There’s another letter somewhere, in which she confides she feels she ought to know about Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and asks for a modern English version. Later she comments something like, if he’d written about what it was like to be a lowly clerk at the court of Richard II, she’d have learnt old English for that!’

‘Nobody writes letters anymore.’ Someone said. ‘I mean a letter is private, and you hardly know what you think until you start writing, its personal, you know the person you’re writing to.’

‘I guess that’s what really dates my choice. If most of you have read the edition which includes The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, the diary of her first visit to London after the publication of 84, you’ll know that Joyce Grenfell, one of the great letter writers of the twentieth century, rapidly contacts Andre Deutsch in the hope of contriving an introduction to Helene. My bookshelves heave with Joyce, one volume contains almost daily letters, from childhood onwards, written to her mother, younger sister of Nancy Astor, another volume of lifelong letters to her childhood friend Virginia Graham.’

‘Nobody even writes emails, if they can help it. Instant opinions offered online, where do our reflections go? Sorry, I must be sounding like a terrible old bore.’ Offered Kenneth.

‘Did you approve of the play and the film, Tony?’ Said another.

‘Well, by the standards of the modern theatre and Hollywood, absolutely! Both faithfully reproduced in the script as many of the letters as they could. Just a two-hander really. A split stage and a split screen. Bookshop, interior. Small New York apartment, interior. Rather jolly and intimate.’

Then suddenly my reverie was interrupted by the sound of an approaching tea trolley. Melisa jumped up to help Charlie serve all us oldies. Aunt Elisabeth’s best china tea service, decorated Christmas paper napkins, side plates for sandwiches, followed by a fork for the consumption of gateau. Later a desert bowl and spoon for trifle. Conversation switched to the decline of letter writing in general, whilst I thought of all that washing up. Someone spoke of postcards and airmail letters from afar. Soon we were on to the decline of the Royal Mail. Four deliveries a day in London once upon a time someone claimed. Had anyone preserved a travelling post office I was asked. I had to concede I wasn’t that much of an expert on railways.

After a while I thought to myself, this room is beginning to take on the atmosphere of a Victorian tea, in a very upmarket care home, contrived with the sole purpose of facilitating reminiscence therapy. Was I becoming fascinated by just the past now, back with the History I'd started with as an undergraduate? Enough, no more dying from a severe attack of nostalgia. Get me out of here, no get these people out of here.

127: The vision thing

‘How was your bonding jolly at Bilberry?’ Said Jack as Charlie and I walked into his office.

‘You remain as well connected, and as cynical, as ever.’ I replied.

‘Melisa gives me a direct line to quite a lot these days, not to mention Fiona.’

‘Mel hanging around today, is she?’

‘Come on through to the back of the workshop.’

A moment or two later I was abruptly stopped in my tracks; ‘Is that Northcott Electrics?’ I exclaimed.

‘Repainted, relabelled, and re-distressed. We’ve remade the outside for suburban respectability.’ Said Jack.

Melisa, dressed in well distressed overalls, then drew back the sliding door. ‘Good lord! Still carrying Cat’s assorted house breaking implements I see. But from all outward appearances, it looks like one of our garden centre delivery vans!’

‘Got in one, old son. Only now it is “Pemberton’s” friendly deliveries, just the right touch for your part of town.’

‘Could be a flower shop.’

‘Or ready meals.’ Suggested Charlie.

A few weeks later, Melisa plonked a package, a large brown envelope about an inch thick, down in front of me on our kitchen table as we were all sat waiting for Charlie to pour tea. A few hours earlier Mel had successfully delivered Kenneth to us for the first time and in the preceding weeks got her parents to accept the van. She was now splitting her time between Royal Oak, Jack’s garage and the college one evening a week. ‘Do I spy the handiwork of Merriweather and Stollard?’ I asked.

‘I can’t get my head around it; will you look at it for me Tony?’

‘Sure, talk amongst yourselves for five minutes.’

And they did, whilst I shuffled paper, checking for no surprises, and collecting my thoughts. ‘Right then. First off, this is your parents sharing their plans, there is nothing you need to do, other than bit by bit familiarise yourself with the contents. I think I have two bits of advice. At some point you will be asked to become a trustee, you accept, in exchange for some sort of allowance and expenses. You attend meetings, observe, keep yourself informed but at arm’s length from the day-to-day business, as likely as not you’ll find it convenient to go along with your parent’s wishes most of the time. However, in general conversation, at home, or indeed anywhere else, you make it known that in the fullness of time, when you have the power to do so, you intend to break the historic connection between your family and the arms, ordinance, intelligence, security industries etc. You won’t throw assets away, but simply turn shares into cash and use those assets for more down to earth, broadly conservation type, local projects and good works in general. This might happen next year or in thirty years’ time, but you just make your intentions generally known.’

There was a pause, then with a look of wonderment and turning towards Charlie, she asked; ‘How does he do that?’

‘Oh, don’t ask!’ Was her reply.

‘Do what?’ I asked.

‘Someone one once called it, “the vision thing’’, never had it myself.’ Added Kenneth.

‘It sounds simple, and in fact it actually is!’ I asserted.

‘The full English please.’ I spoke.

‘Standard, Between Stations or Gut Buster?’ Said the lady behind the counter.

‘Oh! Standard thank you, extra standard.’

‘Beans or grilled tomatoes?’

‘Tomatoes.’

‘Toast or fried bread?’

‘Fried bread, naturally.’

‘Hash brown or potatoes?’

‘Potatoes?’

‘Chopped and lightly fried.’

‘Yes, why not.’ Once we were sat down at the new greasy spoon cafe, just up from the bicycle workshop and down from the Railway Arms at the Abbey station, I turned to my companion and asked; ‘Why are we here Charlie?’

‘Feeling outside your comfort zone?’

‘A little.’

‘It’s all Trust property, and you are a director of the railway.’

‘It’s not easy keeping up with developments these days, one seems to have so many fingers in pies.’

‘We are here to admire the pic-tures, as you might say.’

‘Oh yes, the internal decoration is rather pleasing.’

‘The once travelling exhibition, has been divided up between here and the pub, we’ll take a look later, after doing the bike centre. Mind you, you are a little over dressed. I should have given greater thought to our schedule this morning.’

‘Ah! Now I remember. This cafe has a specific purpose, it will be a favourite amongst travellers, railway workers and train spotters alike. It will serve food that the refined refreshment rooms at the station will not, and be cheaper. In the act of restoring authentic refreshment rooms, we create somewhere everyone will want to look at, perhaps even have a cup of tea at, but will come here to stuff their faces!’

Our ‘all day breakfasts’ arrived, we got stuck in. Then Charlie asked; ‘Why on earth are you bringing back platform tickets?’

‘The train spotters and railway photographers aren’t rich, but the Abbey station is where all the action will be, yet they are the ones upon whom we depend to spread the word far and wide that we are where it’s at!’

‘And you’ll be forcing everyone over the footbridge, if you reinstate platform four!’

‘Once everyone has experienced the full experience, everyone will be in favour, including the disabled.’

‘How?’

‘First and foremost, everyone must go through the restored booking hall, then choose the stairs or the lift. Naturally, a porter will be on hand to assist. Once on the over bridge, freshly restored so as to be open to the elements on both sides, it becomes the ideal viewing platform for the whole station, and the experience of passing steam!’

‘Blimey!’

‘Any more questions, on the “vision thing”?’

‘No, no, I’ll keep my mouth shut.’

We wondered up the street to the bike emporium. The first person we saw was young Melisa; ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

‘As Jack’s general dogsbody I go where I’m sent. I’m here for the week. When he’s decided what I’m good for, he’s promised a proper apprenticeship.’

‘You’ve sold this place to Jack!’ Exclaimed Charlie turning towards me.

‘A cheap lease, putting him in my debt, just a little.’

‘You two looking for bikes? Very competitive prices.’

‘Good god, no! I’d rather keep jogging. Bikes would only lead to instant road rage. Besides we can’t just chuck them in the back of a van like you.’

‘We could get a foldaway each.’ Offered Charlie.

‘Have you seen the price?’

‘Says the richest man in a ten-mile radius.’

I looked at my watch; ‘Oh look, just turning eleven. Time to take a look at the Railway Arms I think.’

I ordered bitter, Charlie a bottle of German larger. Which rather summed up the age divide, she just turned forty, me in my middle fifties. Short of sawdust on the floor, I thought they’d made an excellent job of the pub. ‘You know, most people as they get older start getting nostalgic about their youth, but what preoccupies me is something older.’

‘You’re nostalgic for a time you never experienced.’

‘Quite!’

‘But if it’s a time before your time, then it’s a world divided by class, with you at the top of the tree.’

‘Well I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just some things were done better in the past.’

‘You are outside your comfort zone. You have all the right ideas, dreamt-up in front of the fire at the gentleman’s club. You’re always dressed like a man at his club, a man out of his time. Worse, maybe a man out of time?’

Looking again towards the pictures, I replied; ‘Alas yes, it seems I was born too late for the age of elegance!’

120: Spies r' us

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

‘I think you have a tail, old boy.’

‘What?’

‘Been with us since Bristol.’

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

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

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

‘Good lord!’

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

‘Beyond me old man.’

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

‘You have some strange friends.’

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

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

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

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

‘Will do.’

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

‘And the cottage?’

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

‘Like so many others, here about.’

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

‘Thanks for warning me.’

‘Are we the last?’ Barmy asked Daphne.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m sorry, have we met?’

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

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

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

‘He’s my gardener now.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Is that Barmy’s reputation these days?’

‘Very much so, sir.’

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

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

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

‘Well neither have I!’

‘Yes, but you’re at least, normal.’

‘How’s Ken?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘How do you know any of this Tony?’

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

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

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

‘It was?’

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

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

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

114: All in the family

Charlie and Melisa were picking the last of the fruit. Remarkable really, given we were getting so close to Christmas. Meanwhile, Kenneth and I sat on the patio, resting-up before the rigours of tea. ‘May I be permitted an impertinent question?’ He offered as an opening gambit.

‘You can try.’

‘How did your parents die?’

After a pause for thought, I decided to reply; ‘They died together in a motoring accident. Details remain somewhat vague, it happened abroad.’

‘When and where was this?’

‘Easter, nineteen eighty. Somewhere on the Swiss, French border.’

‘Do you know anything of the circumstances?’

‘The only detail in the documents is that no other vehicle was involved.’

‘Ever struck you how, convenient that might be?’

‘I trust this is leading somewhere?’

‘Yes. I apologise, I already knew, your aunt confided as much.’

‘But?’

‘But on the one hand whilst such sparse information let’s loved ones make their own narrative, as it were, on the other hand it is well, bureaucratically convenient for the authorities. Nothing is likely to be challenged, no urgent questions asked.’

‘And?’

‘Your aunt was satisfied with all that, it struck me you were someone who would want more.’

‘I am, but I’ve gleaned no more, from having all the family papers now, I mean.’

‘Thank you for indulging me. Changing the subject entirely, I don’t imagine I’m long for this world, I’ve already lived longer than any of the ancestors I’m aware of.’

‘You may yet surprise yourself.’

‘I like young Melisa; I’d hate to think she’d end up in any kind of trouble. It strikes me you might be a chap with the wit to see that through.’

‘What trouble?’

‘As I mentioned back along, I was one of the last national servicemen.’

‘At the cypher school.’

‘Quite. Well at the end of it all a very military, but civilian clothed chap turned-up, and persuaded me to join him in what we still called, Signals Intelligence, in those days.’

‘I think I see where this is headed.’

‘Yes, it was Melisa’s grandfather. Your Daphne’s father. Now, I only stayed in that world a few years, civil service pay and conditions being what they were, but they do say once in, never out! The point is, as far as I am aware Daphne has never worked in Intelligence in any capacity, but she’s always been very loyal to her father.’

‘She thinks you were regarded as unsound on account of having an eye for the ladies.’

‘And it takes one to know one. In the popular mythology chaps who go up to the university often think, long after the fact, that some doddery old tutor must have made overtures to them regarding joining the intelligence community, but their failure to recognise the fact demonstrated their unsuitability. Ever asked how you came to find yourself in Daphne’s company?’

‘Oh, really Kenneth!’

‘And more to the point, why someone would think you a likely target?’

‘A dysfunctional background?!’

‘More than that, maybe. I have no access of course, but you can’t help thinking like them after a while, often one isn’t even conscious of operating in the interests of another, the best informants may be quite unaware of what they are, better still a compliant populace...’

‘Enough Ken, I can only take so much of the hall of mirrors.’

The damp autumn-like air meant tea around the kitchen table. ‘Are you going to tell them your news?’ Said Charlie, looking in Melisa’s direction.

‘I’ve passed my driving test. Don’t have a car, but passed the test.’

‘Congratulations.’ I replied. ‘What sort of a vehicle are you looking for?’

‘A stealth car.’

‘Ha! Aren’t we all.’

And after a pause, Charlie asked; ‘What happen to Northcott Electrics?’

‘That’s a point.’ Another pause for reflection.

‘And?’

‘What?’

‘I think what Melisa is asking is, who or what, is or was, Northcott Electrics?’ Kenneth added helpfully.

‘Cat’s old second-hand van, before he got the Triumph sports, good for hiding in plain sight.’

‘Jack would know.’ Offered Charlie.

‘I imagine he would. He also has a “stealth vehicle” of course, to use Mel’s phrase, although somewhat more aggressive! Anyway, that’s all by-the-by, since Jack’s garage is our only contact in the motor trade, we must pass you over to them. Charlie, lay-on a guided tour of Jack’s place for Mel.’

‘Very good, sir.’

We all lapsed into silence again.

‘Melisa is going to do some more work experience for us, at Royal Oak this time, obviously.’

‘Excellent, but be sure you can work out how much involvement the college authorities will have, education is the same organisation as health and social care effectively, monitoring wise, if you see what I mean?’

‘Sure, won’t be for a while, everything should be official by then.’ Reassured Charlie.

‘Good.’

‘Of course, my real problem is university.’ Mel surprised me.

‘How so?’

‘Everyone assumes I want to go, should go. I’m not sure, not sure at all.’

‘And people - less smart people - feel affronted when the really smart person, for whom they thought they were creating universities, seems less than enthusiastic.’

‘You know, of course.’

‘But so does your father, what’s his take on all this?’

‘He just sits there like a lemon saying; “Anthony can advise you better on this.” Which sends mother like, crazy; “She’s your daughter, for goodness’ sake! You should...”; this, that and etcetera. But he just takes it.’

‘And you’re hesitating because?’

‘I don’t want one the professions, and I don’t want a lifetime of debt!’

‘Money’s not a problem, your father just has to phone his accountant. He’ll take a thrashing from your mother on your behalf, so you get the freedom to choose.’

‘I just want wheels, cash in hand, a trade, one of those jobs which is always going to be needed, something useful, something where I can see the result at the end of the day. As far as I can see, what with this climate thing, it’s just economic chaos and more wars about resources and stuff.’

I was shocked, though I hoped I didn’t show it, for what she’d said was music to my ears. ‘Okay, well that can go one of two ways, towards a craft or towards a skin trade.’

‘What’s a skin trade?’

‘Crimpers, the rag trade, street hawkers, vicars, tarts.’

‘Spies.’ Added Kenneth.

‘Alternative therapists, beauticians’ Said Charlie.

‘And, whatever training or courses you end up on, the principle is that you apprentice yourself to a master, who has the skills you need but don’t yet have. It may not be your actual boss, maybe someone from elsewhere who you never actually get to meet, or even someone long dead, but you lock-on to them and imitate them, and by trial and error over time... You know, what used to get me was people saying; “What are you interested in?" Or; “What are you good at?" The question ought to be; what are you enthusiastic about? What absorbs you, what makes you feel, maybe hours later, well that was really no effort at all!’

‘Oh, no. The time. Mother will kill me, again.’

‘Take some fruit, evidence of purposeful activity.’

106: Summer camp

It had to happen one day. Charlie had coerced me, once again, into taking a run along the Downs. Then on down and along the beach for the walking part, before attempting at least some sort of run up the other side. I was half way up, when, without intending to, I found myself just giving up. I had a chance to recover a bit before she realised and came back down to investigate.

‘I’m exhausted, I’m for the knacker’s.’

‘No!’

‘I’ve got to face it; I can’t get any fitter than I am now. This is it. Self-care and all that. You go on. Leave me, save yourself.’

‘I can’t, if you’re not chasing my arse, how can I get to the top?’

As we strolled back to the house, Charlie’s work phone pinged; ‘A text from the laird, sir.’

‘Knock-it off.’

‘It reads; “We’re back for long weekend stop. Job done for now stop. God save the King stop.” What’s he talking about?’

‘The court of Lord Lyon has to talk to Garter King at Arms; he makes it happen. The stone of destiny, Scone Palace, as was. How to get it to England without it ever leaving the soil of Scotland, all that stuff.’

‘Did you have some kind of a stroke back there on the hill?’

‘Didn’t it strike you as a bit odd how quickly it was arranged for the King to hand over Cat’s castle after his father’s death?’

‘No.’

‘Now, I can’t pretend to understand, but one of Cat’s official duties now is to collect the stone of Scone at the Scottish border and transport it to the Abbey without it ever touching the ground, or whilst it’s still sitting on a bed of Scottish soil, or something - whatever.’

‘You’re mad, the whole lot of you.’

‘I thought we’d established that some years ago.’

We got home with just enough time to settle in the media room, before turning on live, to the event of the century. I must confess my heart sank when the carriage emerged through the gates of the Palace. Two aging figures squashed into the back of something that looked no bigger than a hansom cab, built for the previous more diminutive monarch no doubt. ‘It all looks terribly eighteenth century to me, characters out of a satirical cartoon.’ I opined.

‘Cinderella.’

‘My god, yes. “You shall go to the ball, Cinders”.’

‘Worse than that.’

‘How come?’

‘You’re too old! You think of the royals as an institution. Think celebrity. There is only one Prince Charming. And Cinders has already got her man. These are the ugly sisters! The ball has already been going for some time. They, are the late arrivals.’

‘Holy smoke! This could all go horribly wrong.’ And after a pause for thought I found myself saying; ‘Have you done any treats? I feel the urge for comfort food.’

‘Later, Kenneth is coming over for a late Coronation lunch, slash early tea on the patio.’

Cut to the Abbey.

‘Here comes Red Beard!’ She declared.

‘Dressed for a wedding. “Oh look, I’m the last to arrive.” He really should lose the beard; I suppose he thinks it makes him look more serious.’

‘Now you’re getting it.’

‘But this must all be awfully embarrassing for Canterbury though, lots of pre-reformation ritual, then the swearing of undying allegiance to the King as head of our peculiar form of Protestantism. He’s going to blatantly contradict himself later on, bringing in all the multi-faith stuff, that’s if the Lambeth Palace lackeys are to be believed, they sounded positively orgasmic about their new innovations earlier in the week.’

‘Father may be suffering an attack of apoplexy as we speak.’

‘Perhaps you should phone your mother.’

‘I’m staying well out of it.’

What with the quality of the cameras, and each one of the principals being mic-ed up, it was a very different experience to watching the film of the late Queen from seventy years ago. But in a way that just highlighted the changes between church and state. The grim determination of the archbishop was in itself a kind of intolerance, you will be tolerant of everyone and everything or else - if you know what I mean!

‘Blimey the Head Boy is reading a lesson, he’s a Hindu surely?’

‘They do these things rather well at Marlborough.’

‘What?’

‘Drawing boys into traditional ways of doing things. Finding inoffensive parts of the Bible is all part and parcel of it.’

‘How would you know?’

‘I made the cricket team one year, so you know, did the rounds of away matches. How long does this show go on?’

‘Concert tomorrow, street parties Monday...’

‘Less than the funeral then?’

‘Well, it can’t all go on for that long. The opening rounds of hosting Eurovision are next week.’

‘Oh, good lord. It’s the Summer of Camp.’

Not for the first time I watched Kenneth’s slow arrival from our first-floor bedroom window. He was still insisting on walking from his place, but had taken of late to sitting on the patio a while before starting work. A thought struck. I descended from on high.

‘How do you do it Kenneth?’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Preserve one’s resilience with age I mean. I must confess, I just gave up this morning, towards the end of our run on the Downs. Charlie was not best pleased.’

‘By realising that however much you have to slow down, it’s better to keep moving than stop altogether. Besides the slower you move, the more you notice.’

‘Ah! The small things, the detail, the stuff one never noticed before.’

‘Rather makes you realise how unobservant or inconsiderate one may have been in the past! Perhaps that’s what the fishing does for Charlotte.’

‘I’d never thought of that. Aye, aye, talk of the devil.’

‘Alright old timers, shift yourselves. I need to lay out the table. I want to see at least fifteen minutes gardening activity out of you two before your Coronation Special.’

Whilst we were making ourselves look busy in the environs of the garden shed, Kenneth asked; ‘So, who exactly are all the people involved in your railway project?’

‘Well, there’s the Arlington Trust obviously, Gerald the owner of the railway hotel in town, Jack who owns the hotel at Morestead, the famous farmer’s retail co-op who operate all around the junction station on the Morestead line, the school trust who have the railway at the bottom of their cricket pitch, the Fell Mining Corporation who have all the extra land at the old naval port, and Brian, he’s our main man within the existing preserved railway.’

‘And who have you got on the inside, in government and the Department of Transport?’

‘Oh! Come, come, a gentleman doesn’t ask such questions.’

‘So, you do have people. You certainly wouldn’t get far if you didn’t.’

‘Who wants to know Ken?’

‘Merely idle curiosity.’

‘Your curiosity is never idle.’

‘Is this all your own work my dear?’ Asked Kenneth.

‘No, Chef at the club made it, he had a bulk order, he put one aside for me.’

‘Well don’t look at me!’ I asserted; ‘It was demanded by all the committee members, strict instructions to follow the official recipe too.’

‘That’s why Chef looked so miserable then.’

There was a pause as the three of us tucked-in.

‘Oh, no.’

‘Won’t do at all.’

‘Tasteless, and all, limp.’

‘Real men don’t eat quiche.’

‘Not much of the real man in our King it would seem.’

‘And he wanted his first overseas trip to be France!’

98: The Trumpton Interviews (part two)

‘Blimey! Pause it. Pause it and go back.’

‘Hang-on, this is clearly an event, I’ll switch to the tv screen and go back to the beginning, we can then pay proper attention, it is almost the full two hours, see?’

It was the week before Christmas, and the Don Wooley Podcast with the ex-prime minister was snatching the nation’s attention away from traditional media and their reverence for the late Queen. Which of course was fine for The Beacon - we were watching it on their channel having been prompted by verbatim transcripts in the paper - but their rivals and the BBC were floundering.

The aftershock promised to be considerable, grabbing the attention of the millions of us determined to listen, but in our case also watch, in our own time via social media. The podcast format seemed to have come of age, but in an incongruous set-up. There were Buffy and the Don, lounging in grand country house surroundings but talking like, well I imagine a couple of Aussie lager louts would, in some outback bar. The uninhibited atmosphere of the podcast, conducive to intimate confessions. The first of these ‘finished’ programmes surprised from the off, simply by its frankness about government affairs, an openness we British aren’t use to. Within a couple of minutes, the Don was interrupting Buffy’s flow with a query as to whether he was breaking the Official Secrets Act by talking in such a way.

‘Oh, don’t be such a big girl’s blouse Don!’

‘And that as well Buffy, some might say such language is sexist, if not misogynistic?’

‘It’s a joke, made by chaps against other chaps, nothing to do with the girls at all!’

‘To be honest, I’m not sure I understand it, where does it come from?’

‘Part of the great music hall tradition.’

‘But neither of us are old enough to remember!’

‘Misspent youth. I was one of the first generation to have a portable tv in my room at school, and at university come to that. Northern comics, drew a lot on their idols from the variety theatre.’

‘But what does it mean?’

‘Well, it’s the timeless image isn’t it! British working-class women chatting over the yard wall, or in the back lane as they hung out the washing, fussing and flustered, ample bosomed, grown fat on a diet of bread and dripping, shocked by the inconsequential behaviour of their neighbours.’

‘Making a fuss about nothing you mean?’

‘Absolutely. Cross talk and banter, the stuff of tv chat to this day.’

‘Yes. So, to bring it all back, the Official Secrets Act, is nothing?’

‘No, no, no, of course not. But my point is Don, so much of my tenure in Downing Street has been pawed over by the newspapers, parliamentary committees, even the Supreme Court, leaked emails, security footage, much of what we have to say to each other clearly has a precedent and is already in the public domain, or so the girlie-swot lawyers tell me!’

‘And how do you justify that one?’

‘One what?’

‘Girlie-swot.’

‘Oh! You want more definitions and derivations. Well now. You see again, its boys ripping the piss out of the other boys. I blame the teachers. Around about the end of the seventies, early eighties, there became available for the first time, mass stats on what happens to exam results when kids are taught in single sex classes or entire schools. As we all now know, not only do both sexes do better when not distracted, but girls out-performed boys. Right? So, in the years that followed our teachers were forever trying to motivate us to do better by ribbing us about how well the girls did. So, any lad who kept his head down, did everything the teacher asked of him...’

‘Was a girlie-swot.’

‘Precisely.’

‘And educational attainment through hard work is a bad thing?’

‘No, no. Its the going mad about exams. Specialising far too early. Not realising what school is really about.’

‘You mean things like, critical thinking and creativity?’

‘No Don! That may well be what schools, ought, or should be about, what they’re really about is learning what authority is, learning to conform to social norms, living by a timetable, learning how to be a future employee, how to spend your time working for somebody else.’

‘And you approve of that?’

‘Well its alright for most people, probably what they need, but not for the likes of us, aye Don? The measure of a chap, is can he escape all that? Do his own thing, cut his own path through life. But you’ve got to know the rules before you can break them, develop a touch of class, of style. Chaps who are focused on outcomes, don’t mind much how they get there, will do whatever it takes. Be your own man, that’s the thing. Of course, once in a while you get a girlie-swot who does come good, given enough time, boys like our A.A.’

‘A.A?’

‘Oh! Of course, you wouldn’t know, the chap you know as Tony, owner of this place.’

‘Part owner, along with the Earl.’

‘He always has aspired to be part of the landed gentry.’

Charlie grabbed the remote and pressed pause, saying: ‘That’s a good place to leave it for now, we’ve got Bob for tea, and I’ve got prep to do.’

‘Well thanks a lot! Stopping it just as my name is about to be dragged through the mud.’

‘I wonder how the club will react?’

‘Well, I imagine there will be a few stony-faced types who will be wittering about the constitutional implications and suchlike, but most will just find it hilarious!’

‘And how will Rory and Prudence react?’

‘They won’t like it. They’re going to find Buffy even more difficult to defend. Still, we won’t have long to wait, Buffy has been called in as a late substitute for Uncle, as speech-giver at the club Christmas lunch.’

‘Is his lordship unwell, sir.’

‘No, I don’t think so, just losing his taste for drunken revelries.’

As soon as we were sat around the kitchen table, staring at the pot, waiting for it to stew a little, the good Captain started in. Such romantic idealism was surprising in an older person, he’d clearly been captivated by the prospect of making their new prospective house, a home. It wasn’t long before I felt the need to put my foot down.

‘The bottom-line Bob, is the Trust retains the freehold permanently, we like The Grange, will pay for the upkeep of the structure and any interior work that brings it back closer to the original, but all that costs! We shall no longer donate to the charity; we’ll as likely as not be your landlord initially. Charlie will no longer participate as a Trust representative but as a private individual, whatever she donates will come from her own savings. The area for negotiation is the level of rent, followed later by the possible cost of a lease. Remember, the move itself is going to cost you, you also don’t know if the move will bring you more or less donations. There is the question of how much you personally wish to commit, versus the benefit of holding off till after your time when Charlie will have considerable discretion over negotiating a long lease if both sides are still happy.’

The temperature seemed to have been falling as I made my pitch, almost as if a draft had caused the pantry door to slowly open.

‘The answer Robert old boy, is to give the real, current, accounts to Charlie to show to the Trust’s accountant, Lawrence Brinkley of Brinkley Associates.’ The voice came from Kenneth, silhouetted in the doorway, for all the world like the ghost of Duncan.

‘My God! Kenneth Murchison, I thought you were dead!’ Cried the captain.

90: Nest of spies

‘Well?’

‘Well, what?’ I replied.

‘What’s on?’

‘Nothing’s on.’

‘With you, something is always on.’

‘Today we simply wait to see what the day brings forth.’

‘Sod that, nothing comes of nothing. Time to get moving!’

‘No post?’ I asked.

‘No post. Online?’

‘Nothing stirs, at least nothing human!’

‘I’ve summoned Melisa, to be here by tea time.’ Announced Charlie as we were consuming our meagre lunchtime rations. ‘She can pick-up her copy of the placement report, check it over, before the other one goes in the post to her headmaster.’

‘At least she has a headmaster, that’s something. Or headmistress, I mean, rather than some other silly, ungendered title.’

‘Shut the door quickly. I think I’m being followed.’ Melisa scurried to the reception room window and peered down the street.

‘And whom do you fear is spying on you?’ I asked.

‘The family of course.’

‘Ah! Well, you’re a child, you should be used to that.’

‘Yes, but they’re all so evasive when you ask questions.’

‘Come on up to the media room, we’ll talk before tea.’

‘It would be highly unusual if anyone in your family was physically following you. Your father provided you with a top of the range mobile, he’s almost certainly set it up, so he knows your location, and if you’re here that’s no problem.’

‘What’s that?’ She asked looking at what I’d just put on the screen.

‘Your father’s mobile is on, and is in the garden shed at this very moment.’

‘Oh, my god!’

‘It’s okay, we’ve been playing this game for years. But he will know what I just did. It’s the way our network is set up. I mean there will be masses more you can do with your mobile in years to come if you care to learn how.’

‘I just keep getting an uneasy feeling everywhere I go.’

‘Well, in a sense, we’re all on tv now, cameras are everywhere. And if you’re sensitive to that, it’s not uncommon to feel you’re on stage all the time, unable to relax completely and just play as you please.’

‘But father and all his lot are expert in this stuff, then there is grandfather, mum’s dad. I don’t get straight answers from any of them.’

‘Well, just because someone knows a lot of secrets doesn’t make them a spy! It just means they have to abide by the Official Secrets Act, and keep their mouth shut.’

‘That’s kind of what they say.’

‘But anyway, we need to stop this anxiety of yours running away with you. You need to be confident about what’s fact, fantasy or simply stuff that is unknowable or uncertain.’

‘How?’

‘Wipe from your mind for a moment, any thought of spies or your German heritage. You are in grave danger of missing that which applies to absolutely anyone who looks into their family history, whoever they are, wherever they come from.’

‘What?’

‘You have four grandparents, eight great grandparents, sixteen great, great grandparents. Everyone’s family tree of descent grows massively as you go further back. Sooner or later, you come across people you dislike, or disapprove of. Some you may be able to empathise with a little, realise that had you been in their situation, you might have acted in a similar way. But all our ancestors experienced poverty and tyranny by today’s standards. Equally, if you could go back far enough, you’d find you are a direct descendant of someone, considered royal in their time.’

‘Okay.’

‘That’s your context, your starting point or baseline. So, with a little knowledge of German history, it should be obvious you’ll come across people who went along with unpleasant regimes as well as those who took a stand. Most people think and act in terms of day-to-day survival, even if you’re resisting a particular government, you’ll still have had to join a queue for the essential food or energy supplies your enemy controls, in that sense everyone ends up a kind of collaborator.’

‘But if Daddy’s family made money, ever since radios and electrics went into planes, they must have been in the arms industry, war profiteers!’

‘Sure. But you must ask what choices they had? Could they pick which side to be on? Come on, let us go in the garden, and have some of Charlie’s wonder tea.’

‘How are you, Mel?’ Asked Charlie.

‘A bit jumpy actually, you explain Tony.’

‘Melisa is a bit worried about her German family history, their involvement in the aeronautics industry, and the whole secrecy thing that comes with her father’s work.’

‘How old are you, Melisa?’ Asked Kenneth.

‘Sixteen.’

‘The only way to get over the old spying paranoia is to read about real spying throughout history. Anthony, you should lend her your ancient copy of Knightley’s, The Second Oldest Profession and Simon Singh’s, The Code Book.’

‘So, you’ve been spying around the media room then!’

‘Bad puns don’t become you.’

‘More to the point, how do you know about such things?’

‘National Service old boy, trained as a cypher clerk, down the coast from here as it happens.’

‘Is Barmy being asked to give consultation on this business in eastern Europe?’ Interceded Charlie.

‘More than likely.’

‘In that case he might be a bit anxious, Daphne would pick up on that, and so too the girls.’

‘That’s a point.’

‘Some people default to Moscow Rules when under pressure.’ Threw in Kenneth.

‘Oh, good lord!’ I exclaimed.

‘What are Moscow Rules?’ Melisa asked in all innocence.

I looked at Kenneth, he said; ‘You’re the great explainer Anthony.’

‘Well, the term has taken on a life of it’s own these days, some people even produce lists. What they don’t usually explain is that the expression comes from fiction, from the John le Carre spy novels.’

‘Or the late David Cornwell to give him his real name, one time MI6 officer.’

‘Thank you, Ken! In le Carre’s fiction, Moscow Rules should be followed by spies when in enemy territory, rules about being hyper vigilant. But it has a very specific context, the situation in the Cold War period when the Soviet Union existed. So, anyway, a western spy finds himself in say, Moscow, now the foundational rule, so to speak, is you must assume in all your day-to-day behaviour that your real identity and purpose is already known to the KGB and that you are always being followed. Therefore, every communication with your informer, or contact must appear innocent, unplanned. Now there is no list in the novels, just odd examples of procedure, I’m trying to remember examples?’

‘Oh, carry on old chap, you’re doing very well.’

‘Well, take being followed, we have this sense of the danger being behind us, but the real situation is likely to be very different. It’s almost certainly a team, men and women. All dressed differently, possibly with a couple of cars as back-up. The real danger is very likely in front of us... Makes one think of Nemesis.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Greek goddess of retribution.’ Offered Kenneth.

‘But that’s just where people go wrong. The goddess Nemesis, in her winged chariot, is inevitable retribution, something everyone faces eventually. She is way out in front of you, over many horizons, sets off at your birth, she is coming straight at you from the future... Anyway, that’s a bit of a diversion, what you really want to know about are dead letter boxes, crash meetings, and their relevance in a digital world.’

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?’