148: Is that it?

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

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

‘A drink, or three?’

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

‘Right, excellent, very good.’

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

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

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

‘You mean us?’

‘I mean everyone.’

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

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

‘Very good, sir.’

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

‘Sir?’

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

‘Oh, yes?’

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

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

‘Precisely.’

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

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

‘What have you done for her?’

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

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

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

‘Good gracious, is that the time already?’

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

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

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

‘Two minutes I promise.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘So?’ Said Melisa.

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

145: Electric diner

‘Where are we going?’ I asked, as Charlie veered off the usual route to the Park.

‘Jack’s.’

‘But you filled-up a couple of days ago.’

‘I know. But there have been developments, and I need to show you.’

‘You could have just told me.’

‘Well, no not really. You rely too much on me you know. When it comes to the filling station, the classic car workshop, Jack’s other nefarious activities, Fiona, even Mel these days.’

‘You’re my eyes and ears Sparkwell, give me details.’

‘In case you’ve forgotten, sir, the deal was, all those years ago, that I take care of the car, singular. In exchange for free use. What you neglected to explain, was just what your relationship to Jack really is. I really don’t know, what you need to know. But I do know you need to see this.’

‘Yes, you’re quite right, as usual.’ Having parked in the car park we sat and stared. The name above the entrance to what I still think of as the new pay point, come shop, come cafe and comfort break area at the filling station, had changed. Somewhat larger, and now a flashing neon sign, it read Electric Diner.

‘Very American.’ Was her only comment.

‘But at least it’s not on the roof, projecting to the sky. That would have required planning permission one assumes.’

‘Come on.’ Said Charlie, making to exit the vehicle.

‘There’s more?’

‘Of course, the whole interior is made out like a diner.’

‘You’re telling me Jack has forked out for a full interior redesign just a couple of years after the original was built?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Didn’t come to me for the money!’

‘Maybe he’s doing better than he’s letting on.’

Whilst the pay point and shop looked substantially the same, the cafe area was altogether different. We took seats at the counter.

‘What can I get you folks?’

‘Blimey!’

‘I say!’ I added, as a uniformed Melisa smiled upon us. ‘Still Jack’s general dogsbody I take it?’

‘No!’

‘Skirt’s a bit short.’ Said Charlie.

‘I’m just here for ten days, overseeing the opening, I’m Jack’s right hand these days.’

‘Masquerading as a waitress in a burger joint. Anyway, what do you recommend?

‘Double cheeseburger with extra fries, a tenner each.’

‘What!’

‘Proper big buns, hand-flipped hamburgers.’

‘Flown in a new short order Chef from Vegas, has he?

‘No, same staff.’

‘Still must have cost a bit.’

‘Jack says the filling station is a profit centre.’

‘First in a thousand years! Two coffees, thank you.’

After we’d had a chance to take in the ambience for a minute or two, the truth suddenly dawned. ‘I know where he’s got this from, Eltham.’

‘How come?’

‘He’s been roaming his social media, picked up what’s been developing with recharging for Makepeace’s US EVs.’

‘Well?’

‘There’s three or four now, combination drive-in, or drive-by, rechargers plus burger joints and cinemas, all retro nineteen fifties style. You park, plug-in, order a meal from the car, it’s delivered to you as you watch a movie on the big outdoor screen.’

‘And pay from your device, presumably.’

‘Of course.’

After a few more minutes Mel returned; ‘Sure I can’t get you anything to eat?’

‘No, I have to keep a tight rein on Tony’s appetites.’

‘So, what are you saying Mel, Jack’s training you up as some kind of personal assistant?’

‘Thinks I’m management material. Good at reading people, seeing opportunities for what they are. He also, well, I think he’s sees how you and Charlie operate and...’

‘He’s older than I am! And he’s been married to his childhood sweetheart for over forty years.’

‘I didn’t mean like that, what do you take me for?’

‘He knows Mel, he’s deliberately misunderstanding, he can’t help himself.’

‘So, does he want you to sell cars, or be a female enforcer perhaps?’

‘I don’t know, all I know is it works, I sort of gather information in, and he says he can think aloud when I’m around, bounce ideas of me.’

‘Oh well, if you’re that important, you should be able to name your own price. Anyway, onward and upward, Charlie we must hit the road.’

‘Might see you later then Tony.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, you’re off to your secret session with Tim, aren’t you?’

‘Not so secret it would seem.’

I went in search of George, our senior grounds person. For although I sort a private consultation with Tim, I’d no intention of queering the pitch for him. He was after all, a student under George’s supervision. I found him sitting on one of the new, old-style park benches, on the far side of the pond, finishing his tuck. ‘Afternoon George.’

‘Mr Arlington, sir.’ He said, doffing a non-existent cap and rising to his feet.

‘Oh, lord. Not you as well, I get enough of that from Sparkwell.’ I said sitting down.

‘But you do deserve respect, you found these benches, they’re actually comfortable to sit on!’ Now he sat back down again.

‘Thank you. Cost a fortune though, we must devise a way of doing our own repairs in the fullness of time.’

‘We have some wood set aside from the new water pipe business, I’ll keep an eye out. Now then, you’re here to ask me about that young Tim, am I correct?’

‘You are indeed.’

‘Soon as he mentioned he was doing your garden, I thought, hello! Not like we’ve had students before.’

‘Well, how’s he doing?’

‘Fine. Good worker, I’d give him a job. But he, has ideas.’

‘And that’s bad?’

‘No, but he’s no Joseph Paxton, is he?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, we must remember Paxton was only twenty-three when the duke offered him the position of Head Gardener at Chatsworth.’

‘Yes, but in case you hadn’t noticed, we’re half the size of Chatsworth.’

‘But the house is a similar age.’

‘Oh, I get it. You like him because you, think he’s like you.’

‘Where is he by the way?’

‘Chatting up the old biddies in the walled garden.’

I stood a moment, half shielded by the iron work of the gates. Tim was demonstrating something about digging to a group of our bungalow residents. Either that, or it was their way of getting someone else to do the work. Enough I thought and strode forth. ‘Afternoon all!’

‘Afternoon Anthony.’ Said Ada.

‘I need to borrow young Tim here for a few minutes I’m afraid.’

‘You will bring him back won’t you, we’re learning ever so much.’ Said another.

‘Of course.’

Once out of earshot, behind the wall where the lean-to potting sheds used to stand, I asked; ‘Did you get the package?’

‘Yes, I’ve made a start, fascinating read, I hadn’t realised your uncle was really such a distant relation of the original earls.’

‘I was hoping it was the details of the original parkland and gardens that would fascinate!’

He laughed; ‘They do sir, honestly, it’s just, well as the title says, “Cattle Rustlers to Courtiers”, the occupants are intriguing. All my ancestors seem so deferential, even some of the living specimens...’

‘Quite, now then, lets walk. My uncle’s scheme always was restoration, the club, the spa, conference facilities, merely a means to an end. The walled garden, a case in point, a reasonable compromise provided the users don’t develop an allotment mentality. The expansion of the golf course to eighteen holes, an opportunity to reorientate the entire place back to what it once was, a house and park with uninterrupted vistas all the way to the sea. Unashamed anti-modernism if you will, big C conservation and not a windmill in sight. Would your lecturers approve?’

‘Probably not. But you’ll get no objections from me.’

‘Good lad.’

133: Any other business

Who was it who said; ‘A committee is an animal with four back legs?’ I was staring out of the window to where the new trench, for the new water pipe, was being dug. Then I remembered, John Le Carre in The Honourable Schoolboy, I think? The fact I had time to cogitate, and remember the quote and ponder its source, is a measure of how distracted, or do I mean dissociated, one becomes whilst chairing the club dining committee these days.

Health had somehow crept onto the agenda, or rather the lack of it. As I let them ramble a little longer, the thought occurred that it may have been the influence of Sparkwell at the Spa and Sports Committee that had caused the subject to somehow jump domains, escaping their ‘safe space’ and invading ours! We were on the final item, a routine review of the menu, but somehow it had morphed into the obesity crisis, the psychological impact of our alleged comfort food, and now, the detrimental effects of food additives.

‘But we must consider our activities in the context of the climate crisis.’ Tuffy lobbed in from left field.

‘Enough!’ I asserted. ‘We’re drifting, gentlemen.’

‘Perhaps we need a new committee?’ Added another.

‘We've got four already! Every extra layer of management makes us less efficient and can only lead to higher fees in the future. Now, can we please move on to any other business.’ They had none, thank goodness. But I did; ‘There is one matter I think we should give thought to, the forthcoming official visit of our new MP, the issue being how much she needs to be, well, managed?’

‘Has anyone met the woman? I hear she’s a bloody Trot, sounds like trouble to me.’

Discretion prevents me naming the individual. I simply mused; ‘Well I’ve been in the same room as her a couple of times, can’t say I gleaned much about her.’ Now I concede, I was ‘perhaps being economical with the truth’, but I did want to keep control, make myself Brenda’s personal guide.

‘Well, I don’t imagine any of us have got even that close, I vote the chair should take on the responsibility, I don’t see it’s any business of ours.’ Thank you Tuffy, I thought to myself, somehow our association still worked, even if only unconsciously.

‘I don’t think there’s any need for us to vote on this, Tony?’ Said someone else.

‘So be it. Meeting closed.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Oh, good lord, look at the time, Sparkwell is having guests for tea. I must go.’

As I was legging it down the corridor, Cat drew alongside; ‘Your meeting, finally over?’

‘Finally. But I’m late for a Sparkwell tea now!’

‘Oh dear. Still, this will only take a minute.’

‘And?’

‘Tuffy has gone a bit off-piste again, been boasting in the bar, more than once, about Charlie having tattoos, getting chaps to guess how many, and where.’

‘Not the act of a gentleman. There’s only one he could know about, and that from an accidental glance.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, as a gentleman! Clearly, he’s been colouring his narrative.’

‘Leave it with me.’

As I entered our jolly home, via the pantry, a tall young male figure with wayward hair but a reassuring lack of face adornment, sprang to his feet. This was Timothy at close quarters.

‘Pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve been hearing all about the Arlington Trust.’ Rather formal I thought.

‘Excellent. Apologies for my lateness, delayed by a committee. You’ve had a tour of the garden?’

‘I came in the back way.’

‘How are you Mel, been a while?’

The conversation was a little stilted for five minutes or so, as everyone repeated everything, that had been said before I arrived. Then I pitched in; ‘My thought Tim, was that if you were prepared to take us on, cash in hand of course, then we might also be able to meet all your work placement requirements from across the Trust.’

‘I’ve seen all the websites. You’re also connected to Checkley Manor I understand, a nice house.’

‘Indeed. Well, we seem to be on the same page. I should tell you however that I’m only one of the trustees of the Trust.’

‘Understood.’

Now I stood up, about to leave for a momentary comfort break; ‘Mel! You want to watch yourself, you may never get rid of this chap.’

Upon my return a few minutes later, there was much ribbed laughter. ‘Tony, Mel won’t tell Tim and me what the infamous “unfortunate incident” at her parents wedding was all about.’

‘Don’t tell them!’ Melisa said, looking rather flushed.

I thought, with the boyfriend present, this might be just the moment; ‘I can’t see why not, you were unwell after all, and a small child wasn’t to know.’

‘This is so embarrassing.’

‘Oh! So, it was Mel herself who was the trouble, even then?’ Chided Charlie.

‘Well, it was more the sound really. She was heard, rather than seen by everyone in the church.’

‘Oh, god.’

‘She threw-up in the baptismal font.’

Charlie was driving us to Crawford Park for the Brenda Radnor visit. We were discussing how the situation should be played. Then I realised I hadn’t told her of Tuffy’s latest misdemeanour.

‘I suppose if it was a day I was wearing my shorts, and had to bend a bit, he might have caught a glimpse. As for the others, not a chance.’

‘You never talked about them?’

‘Not to him.’

‘Well, that’s all much as I’d surmised. I leave appropriate retribution, to your good self.’

The visit started with a coffee in the lounge, then I guided Brenda to the spa. ‘Ah! Here’s someone you should meet. Charlotte Sparkwell, chair of the Spa and Sports Committee, and coincidentally my partner in life. Charlie, meet your local MP.’

They shook hands. ‘You look familiar, have we met?’ Brenda asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘But? Wait a moment, I’ve seen your face, several times. I know, it was when I was searching The Beacon for local stories before the election, so you and he are...’

‘Ah, but what a tangled web we weave.’

‘Please, do have a complementary, spa special pro-vitamin drink, this one is apricot, but there are others.’ Charlie interceded.

‘Well, I’ve just had a coffee...’

‘Oh, but you really must try one of Charlie’s pick-me-ups. Entirely organic don’t you know. Works wonders after a late evening.’

‘It’s a recipe of my own invention madam. Mixed using our own spring water.’

Having inspected a sample treatment room, the aqua therapy pool and dodged questions about unionisation, I escorted our representative of the old left, out of the mood-altering aromas into the fresh air surrounding the pond.

She made an excellent choice of question; ‘How do you think our government is doing Tony?’

‘Well, I really only concern myself with local issues, but if pressed I’d say they might be on firmer ground if they went back to fighting the class war. Capital and labour may have opposing interests, but they share the same reality.’

‘Intersectional, woke mob, half the country has gone full tin-foiled hat!’

‘I think we understand each other.’

‘Got any more surprises for me?’

‘Well, maybe just one.’

‘And this is the conference centre. Open for hire, at rates commensurate to its surroundings. Of course it’s easy enough to move the chairs, store the screen etcetera. It was originally the ballroom, with sprung floor, still used for musical evenings.’

‘Very grand.’

‘But also with two withdrawing rooms, one serves as a seminar room for “break-out sessions” as required, the other is our media room, often used as a podcast studio. Oh look! The man himself.’

‘What the hell is he doing here?’

‘Good-day all!’ Said a smiling Don with open arms.

‘Had you not realised? Brenda, let me introduce you to the host of one of our nation’s most popular podcasts, The Don Wooley Show. Treat him right, he might let you be a guest!’