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.

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?’

67: The tea party

‘Welcome to our humble abode, one and all.’ Daphne and her daughters, Melisa and Belinda, turned to look at me with apparent wide-eyed surprise as I entered the reception room on what was turning out to be one of the last sunny summer afternoons. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, have I interrupted someone’s joke before the punchline?’ This was followed by tittering all round.

‘You know Charlotte I do believe you’re correct, there is a distinct family resemblance, now you come to mention it.’

‘Oh, lord! I must confess it hadn’t occurred to me that there might be a downside to putting her on such prominent display. Do sit down all of you, I trust you found us without difficulty?’

‘You forget Tony, I’ve been here before, almost exactly thirty years ago to the day.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned! Yes of course.’

‘I remember the picture too, unavoidable if one needed to use the loo!’

‘It was still there when Charlie first saw it.’

‘Scared the life out of me!’

‘It scared everybody!’ Replied Daphne.

‘When exactly was this Mummy?’ Asked Melisa.

‘End of our second year wasn’t it, Tony?’

‘Yes, I was stopping here for a few days before taking you for a long weekend at Checkley Manor. I remember picking you up at the railway station.’

‘Did he have a glamourous car then too?’

‘We thought so at the time, but looking back it was rather a cramped bone-shaker, not easy to get in and out of.’

‘An old MG Midget, if you care to look it up. Painted duck-egg blue, which is really a pale green, the colour they used to put on the underside of fighter aircraft.’

‘This room has changed, it used to be quite cluttered, now it looks much more formal.’

This was followed by a moment or two of silence, broken only by Melisa saying; ‘So why did the two of you break up; no one ever explains?’

‘Isn’t it obvious, I wasn’t good enough for her. Would you care for a guided tour Daphne, perhaps it would jog the memory even further?’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

‘Would you care to lead the way, Charlie?’

‘Oh, no! I always learn so much I never knew, when you lead a tour!’

‘Very well. Now across the way, we have Charlotte’s lair, where the world comes to be restored...’

We ended, at the bottom of the garden. ‘This is what looks truly familiar, which of course can’t be literally true, obviously you’ve been making quite an effort at restoration.’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘I’ll make a start on tea. I’ll leave you to put out the tables Tony.’ So said Charlie, drifting away.

‘You’ve done marvellously well Tony, are you happy?’

‘Never better.’

‘It all rather makes one discontent for somewhere grander, though Barmy would never hear of it.’

‘She always gives Daddy the last word! Positively feudal.’ Said Melisa.

‘Strange choice of words for one so young.’

‘She’s recently discovered Wodehouse.’

‘Oh! Excellent. I always think of Wodehouse as a response to Sherlock Holmes, you might care to have the two on the go at the same time.’

‘Really! I’ve only ever seen him on the telly.’

‘Well, you are in for a treat.’

‘Now then Melisa.’ I said as we settled into our medicinal herbal tea. ‘Since we are sat here on my property - and it is truly in my name by the way, Charlie here preferring to remain of “no fixed abode” - I feel it beholden upon me, to give you a full and frank explanation as to how and why your father acquired the nickname, Barmy!

‘Oh, Tony!’ Interrupted Daphne.

‘No, no. The truth will out. Your father, as I’m sure you’ve worked out for yourself, is usually the smartest person in the room. This became apparent to all and sundry one day in Maths class, when he was just a few years younger than you are today. The teacher would speak aloud a calculation he wanted us boys to do, at the same time as chalking it on the blackboard. He would invariably say something like, “for full marks be sure to show your working-out”. Now, we would then write out the sum, stare at it for a while, then make an attempt with pencil and paper following the method we’d had drummed into us. Your father on the other hand would stare out of the window throughout. However, he always heard the question, and after a moment simply wrote down the correct answer, and after a further moment’s thought, would draw a circle around the number. Now this annoyed the teacher no end, when challenged, your father said he had no idea how he’d worked it out. The teacher always suspected some form of cheating, we on the other hand knew your father was just like that about all sorts of stuff. So, we just accepted it. One of us, I forget who, said something like, “oh he’s just barmy sir” and it stuck. The name is, what literary types would call a “term of endearment”. But of course, to use anyone’s nickname properly, you really must both like them, and be liked by them.’

‘How did he ever pass any exams?’ Asked Melisa.

‘He said he had to force himself to look up one of the proscribed methods beforehand and consciously remember it, he said exams were the most tedious hours of his whole school career.’

‘I can never understand why schooldays mean so much to the boys.’ Reflected Charlotte.

‘I’m afraid I can,’ replied Daphne, ‘it’s something about the quality and organisation of private education. Those who aren’t able to achieve the camaraderie get sent to Beaconsfield. I’m sorry, Tony mentioned it once.’

‘No problem.’

‘You’re very accepting and understanding about everything Charlotte, not sure I’d be so generous in your shoes.’

‘Well, I met one or two thrown-out of your dump too.’

‘Oh, touché.

‘We haven’t had the benefit have we Bel.’

‘No Mel.’

‘Well, children always rebel against their parent’s choices.’ Replied Daphne.

‘What’s projection Tony?’ Asked Melisa.

‘Oh, good god! Where do you pick up such things?’ Her mother interceded.

‘Well, it’s a psychological phenomenon, first mentioned by Sigmund Freud, but labelled by his daughter Anna, as the principal defence mechanism. Now let me see. You feel a certain emotion say, which you experience as uncomfortable or unacceptable so you play a kind of trick on yourself by ascribing it to others, it makes you feel better, by deciding it has come from somewhere else.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Couple of problems with it though. If you look hard enough, you’ll find every one does it to some degree. Secondly, because everyone does it, you realise it is really a social aspect of the species which kind of gets passed around, and not really the product of individuals at all. Worth ruminating about a bit though, can be a useful idea at times. But, projection is the mechanism or process, it has all sorts of varieties of expression, like rationalisation for example, which of course is exactly what I’ve just been doing.’

‘Well, its been awfully nice having a look around, still we should make a move before the rain returns. Barmy’s back next week, I’m sure he’d enjoy a poke about.’

‘Yes, before you go, just let me slip upstairs, there’s a book I’m sure Melisa would enjoy.’

‘So, what great tome of wisdom did you give Melisa?’

‘Just my pocket edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.’

‘I see. Odd child, is Daphne happy about you egging Melisa on?’

‘She will be. Mel is exceedingly bright. Bored and frustrated as a result. Much like her father was at her age. I have Barmy’s permission to interfere provided I can carry Daphne with me.’

‘And how do you propose to proceed?’

‘Well, if she takes to The Adventures, I’ll start her on Konnikova’s Mastermind - how to think like Sherlock Holmes.’

45: There's a bug going around

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

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

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

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

‘I know.’

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

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

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

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

‘I really don’t know.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Eat your treats.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Really Kenneth! A little tact please.’

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

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

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

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

6: Coffee, tea and scandal

‘Incoming! Bandits at four o’clock.’

‘Don’t tell me…’

‘The text just says “With you at four, full stop, Elisabeth.”

‘..it would do. I had a feeling we were rapidly approaching more, tea and scandal.’

‘We have our yoga session to do yet’.

‘Oh, I think thirty minutes will be plenty time enough.’

‘On your head be it.’ Then, looking up from her device. ‘Wow! “They are at the end of the gallery; retired to their tea and scandal, according to their ancient custom.” That the one?’

‘You’ve got my number Charlie.’

‘Wait. Act One, Scene One, William Congreve 1694 The Double Dealer, oh that’s appropriate.’

‘I’ll ignore that, we have practice to do.’

‘So “gallery”, what’s that?’

‘Er, posh houses of the time would have a long gallery down the whole of one side of the house.’

‘So this bloke says “they” - everyone knows he’s talking about gossipy women huddled in the corner?’

‘Precisely. Come on, get your kit off.'


By now, gentle reader, I suspect you can see what’s coming. Our literally diversion, led to our physical diversions overrunning. This time we both jumped at the sound of the flat doorbell ringing. I glanced at the screen. ‘It’s her, someone going out must have let her in. Quick, you put on your dressing gown, open the door and just say you were changing. When I come out fully dressed you go back in your room and change into whatever works.’

‘Oh, thanks a lot.’

‘Trust me, it won’t work the other way around.’

I confess I left the bedroom door ajar. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Haywood. Do come in. My apologies for the delay, I was just changing after our yoga session.’

‘Yoga! The room certainly has the aroma of the gymnasium. The mats, oh yes I see, of course. Forgive me Ms Sparkwell, but why does my nephew require you to instruct him in yoga in his living room?’

‘It’s a delicate matter, madam. The specific exercises I have been recommending happen to be very effective for tightening up, shall we say, bringing back good order and discipline to the whole digestive system. I’m determined to have a go at reversing all aspects of what I believe is simply - premature ageing.’

‘Yes, of course he has led a totally self-indulgent lifestyle until now, even as a child he would get the most appalling collywobbles. No self-control. I wish you well. Now run along dear and change. Anthony!’

I emerged, completing my transformation on the move for fear she would enter the bedroom. ‘How are you auntie? You look full of the joys. Has Charlotte been taking care of you?’

‘I really think it a bit much making the poor girl answer the door in a state of undress, what will everyone think. You should be more considerate. Especially since I understand she’s been taking you in hand.’

‘That’s one way of putting it.’

‘I shall monitor your progress with interest. After all, you cannot deny that, how should one say - cursed with too much money, you fritter away in idle selfishness…’

At that moment we both noticed Sparkwell, now respectfully attired in her suit, pass through en route to the kitchen, head down and typing furiously. ‘Oh lord, oh my ears and whiskers.’

‘What is it she’s doing that alarms you so, Anthony?’

‘I think she’s just trying to improve her education, she’s heard you make a literary allusion - doesn’t want to appear ignorant when she returns with the tea.’

‘Nonsense, I know my own mind, you’re the one forever offering up obscure references, showing off your knowledge - which after all, we all know is just the result of an education very expensively bought!’

‘Well I expect direct quotes can be unconsciously made...’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Tea, Mrs Haywood?’

‘Thank you, nice to know you’re weening him off those most unsavoury cakes.’

‘May I ask, did you read to Anthony as a child?’

‘Very occasionally perhaps, I have no recollection. No, I don’t think we can seek there for the source of his Bohemian tendencies.’

‘I’ll plead guilty to the lesser charge of Bourgeois Boheme, if you insist.’

‘There you go again. Affectation bordering on snobbery. Despoiling our mother tongue. Mummy used to say it all came in with the Jazz Age, provocative dancing to provocative words.’

‘Dapper Dan was a very handy man on a train that ran through Dixie, Made the beds and ev'rything. All you had to do was ring...’ Charlie spoke with a faraway, wistful voice, not a bit like the song. ‘He has it in his music collection, Mrs Hayward’.

‘There you are, you won’t get away with in the future, coffeehouse-ing your life away.’

‘No alas, after all Aunt, coffee only came in, in the eighteenth century along with sugar. Tea had been around a whole lot longer.’

‘I’m reducing his caffeine intake to one measure per day.’

‘Very wise. Now then Anthony, what’s this I hear about Mr Tufnell proposing to marry a waitress, again!’

‘Fear not, I’ve delegated the matter to Charlotte, after all she knows the girl.’

‘Indeed, how intriguing...’


‘Okay, so I get that students and even teachers are idiots even when searching because they let themselves be led down the garden path, in fact the old “touch your forelock” thing is still there in education despite everything. I get that a lot of learning is unconscious imitation, but how does someone end up…'

‘Well, when you read a book or watch a movie, TV, that you really get to like, it’s all about being able to identify and empathise with a character or characters. But nonetheless you’re still giving equal attention to what you don’t care for, otherwise you’d never appreciate the situation your favourite character is in.’

‘Right.’

‘So time passes, you grow-up, change, once in a while you think, oh my God I sounded just like my father when I said that, more time passes and you end up actually behaving in a way totally at odds with the story you tell yourself, and the rest of the world, about who you are and what you are. So, you are right, we must stay in the moment, let go.’

‘Out there they think love conquers all!’

‘They also think that beauty is truth and that’s all they need to know… We can do better than that, now here’s a quote; “Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.” Antoine de Saint-Exupery.’

‘Who was he?’

‘French pilot and part-time writer, flew small planes around the Mediterranean and North Africa in the Nineteen-thirties, disappeared off the French coast during the war, ferrying God knows what or whom, flying by the seat of his pants.’

‘Navigating with his balls more like.’

‘In an age when women wore silk knickers, and loose trousers that really did hang from the hips.’

‘Never have the hair removed from your actual genitalia. So, I know where to start on your so called library, let’s see, my word, fourteen volumes.’

‘They’re all in the correct order, I should start at the beginning, it will be pleasant light reading for the journey.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Do you have a passport?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we take the night train to Antibes.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Give me ten minutes and I’ll tell you.’

2: Sparkwell and the quivering hand

‘I say old man, who’s that girl sitting at the wheel of your Sports?’

‘Hardly a girl Tuffy, she’s my new PA.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you needed one?’

‘Neither did I, until I met her.’

‘Still, bit of a looker, healthy sporty type I should think?’

‘Fully qualified yoga teacher, and sports injury masseuse.’

‘Gosh, she could make a fortune around here.’

‘That’s precisely why she won’t allow me to sign her in, she doesn’t approve of the Park.’

‘Still, she was happy enough to chauffeur you here, eh!’

‘Yes, I rather think she wants to keep an eye on me. Thinks the place is a secretive hideaway for the rich, where we indulge in bad dietary habits, too much alcohol and unenlightened sexual practices.’

‘But it is.’

‘Quite.’

‘Does she know your Uncle had a hand in setting it up?’

‘Never mind that, how’s she going to react when she finds out I’m Chair of the dining committee?’

‘You must put your foot down, don’t let the hired hand get above itself.’

Should I try and explain my situation to Tuffy? No of course not. We’d been at school and university together, but how he ever passed an exam in anything is beyond even my powers of deduction. He’d noticed Charlie all right, but not the fact I was still sat here at the bar, drinking mineral water, whilst the rest of the lunchtime crowd were feeding their faces in the dining area. 'I must be off. I have to prepare a Tea for the Aunt.’

‘What’s her name?’

‘What? Tuffy you’ve met all my relatives on multiple occasions.’

‘No, I meant the name of your new girl.’

‘She’s not my girl, she’s Sparkwell.’

I was half way to the door when he shouted out for all to hear; ‘I say, she’s probably pinched that motor of yours by now.’

That got my attention and I returned briefly, gesturing with my mobile. ‘Perhaps she has, it would be of little consequence. This device not only connects to the security at the apartment, but the location and activity of the car’s computer, it also, as of a few days ago, tracks the device you saw her playing with as you arrived - I gave it to her as a work phone.’

Back at the car Sparkwell’s face was indeed in her screen. ‘Something truly weird just happened, I asked it a question and it replied in your voice.’

‘Yes, I thought I’d give it a try. It seemed a legit thing to do since it’s meant to be a work phone. Uses some code written by a pal of mine as it happens.’

‘But it talked about stuff you know nothing about, it, you knew all about me, you sounded like everyone I’ve ever known!’

‘It’s only my voice and speech patterns given to a single device; like any computer it only has the data you’ve given it, what you’ve downloaded, what you’ve searched for, plus the very limited amount it can learn from your voice.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Once it’s learnt a bit more, it should be the voice you want to hear. It won’t wind you up the way I do!’

She countered; ‘Finished all your business at your club?’

‘Just a small commission, and a brief chat with the chap who clocked you when he arrived.’

‘He ogled.’

‘Well, that’s Tuffy for you.’

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Just enough to wet his appetite.’

‘What!’

‘Don’t panic, there’s method in my madness, within an hour my entire network will know I’ve got a new girlfriend fifteen years my junior with whom I’m so smitten I even let her drive my most treasured possession.’

‘But, why?’

‘Because, like it or not, my aunt, the self-appointed head of the family is coming for tea this afternoon. She will inspect the apartment, inspect me, pass judgement on my character and in return expect her usual tea served from the family tea service with a couple of sugary fancies on the side to keep her going till dinner time.’

‘Christ!’

‘However, she will be pleasantly surprised to discover a deferential employee who might just be the answer to her dreams.’

‘How come?’

‘All you have to do is serve tea in your own way, but in a respectful, know your place sort of a way, and think; how can I help this woman?’

Outwardly I maintained a calm and certain manner. Inwardly I thought if this goes belly-up we’re both in the shit. There is a time for standing up to Aunts, and a time for knowing where one’s best interests lie. Wisely I thought, Sparkwell had changed into her new suit. Unsurprisingly the intercom buzzed at four o’clock prompt. ‘Now then Charlie, just wait five seconds, then open the door.’

‘Mrs Hayward? I’m Charlotte Sparkwell, your nephew’s new assistant, do come in. May I take your coat?’

‘Er, thank you.’

‘Welcome! Welcome once more to my humble abode, seems but yesterday, care for the new décor, the new ambience?’

‘Oh do stop blathering Anthony! I’ve had a most vexing day so far.’

‘Really?’

‘First a most unsatisfactory consultation at the clinic, then a frankly bewildering conversation with Brinkley at the accountants, then at lunch, to hear from one of my oldest friends, rumours that you have embarked on yet another clandestine relationship...’

‘How embarrassing for you, I trust I shall be able to, clarify the situation. Tea in five minutes, if you would Charlotte.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘Of course I’m not one for taking idle gossip at face value... How strange, now you come to mention it, there is a soothing aroma to this room. Most unusual.’

‘I should just say, that although Ms Sparkwell is here in an administrative capacity, she has volunteered to undertake some domestic responsibilities.’

‘Anthony dear, why do you need an administrative assistant? I presume it will mean you taking even more money from the trust?’

‘Technically, yes. But if you’ve been talking to Brinkley you’ll know that over the last few years the trust’s overall assets have increased considerably.’

‘That is precisely what I don’t understand, how in such dire economic times can the trust be expanding so much in the face of your continuing profligacy and my unavoidable medical expenses. Can you explain it? Brinkley seemed to think it was all down to judicious investments made some years ago in what he called ‘Internet Start-ups’, whatever they may be, which have now been sold off for some reason. Frankly I worry from whom they take advice.’

‘Perhaps he should be congratulated?’

‘You still haven’t answered my question. You have more time on your hands than most.’

I lent forward and adopted a confidential tone. ‘Well, I’m rather hoping she’ll take care of my media, keep the emails in check, keep the begging letters down and the more tiresome of my friends off my back...’

‘Really! I’ve never heard such incomprehensible inconsequential nonsense.’

‘Tea, Mrs Hayward?’

‘Oh, thank you dear, I must say it’s nice to see a young woman so soberly dressed, so rare these days, I fear my nephew is always somewhat over dressed, what his grandmother would have called, “like some American Dandy”, you must waste a fortune on button holes alone.’

‘I hope you’ll forgive my choice of tea, it’s been recommended to me for its medicinal qualities. I am hoping to persuade your nephew to pursue a more, restrained diet.’

‘Oh! I do so agree.’

‘Forgive my saying so madam, but I couldn’t help noticing your hands. I should say that in my former life I studied sports science, trained in physiotherapy and massage techniques for sports injuries. I was curious as to what treatments you’ve been able to access?’

‘Oh my dear, I’ve tried everything! Why just this morning my tiresome doctor tried to fob me off with more pills, what he insisted were “a new more sophisticated form of pain relief”, complete nonsense...’

It was then I concluded the moment had come to tune-out and let Charlie ‘take point’. I allowed my mind to wander. It seemed but a matter of seconds before Aunt Elisabeth was on her feet and being guided towards the ‘treatment room’, formerly known as my spare bedroom.

I must have dosed off, for the next thing I heard was, ‘..he’s lived a completely wasted life you know, shown no inclination whatsoever towards a career, a wife, children…  Wake-up Anthony, I’m leaving, I shall be in touch... Now I don’t know what he is paying you, but I’m sure a little extra... ’