150: A month in the country

As usual I was feeling hard pressed to do all that needed to be done before we left for our annual summer vacation, or ‘working holiday’ as Charlie prefers to call it.

I was catching up with a recent tv report on the Abbey station, their hook being that in the act of digging up the carpark, to reinstate platform four, we’d discovered the original dressed stones which had once made up the then higher wall around the town side of the property. In truth of course the rail enthusiasts had long suspected the stones were there and anticipated the need to raise the wall again to reduce noise levels with the return of steam, help obscure the view from the public park opposite and generally better secure the site. Still, the news report amply served our purpose, deflecting as it did attention away from complaining car lovers who nonetheless liked to regularly commute to the capital by train. Then I was interrupted with; ‘A postal communication from the Palace of Westminster, sir!’

‘Good lord!’

‘Indeed, the House of Lords, sir.’

I hastily opened and attended to the letter in question; ‘Blah, blah, blah, oh my lord, Frimley what are you getting into? We’d better go. I’ll explain in the car.’

‘Well, on the face of it, it’s just the noble lord sending me a flyer for the three-day annual meeting of his Constitution Group at the Park. Book now to avoid disappointment, as it were.’

‘But you never do attend.’

‘Precisely. However, it also contains a schedule of the highlights on offer, including a debate on “Civil Service Non-compliance” to be led by one Buffy Trumpton.’

‘I’d hoped we’d seen the last of him.’

‘Quite. Another session on the “repeal and restore thesis”, whatever that is, led by some historian and one on the adoption of the “Flotterton Manifesto” led by Lord Bittadon.’

‘I thought you said Rory was writing a thriller, and he doesn’t like Buffy any more than we do.’

‘Hence Frimley’s covering note, I quote; “My dear fellow I feel I must warn you that the speech you inspired in the former Honourable Rory years ago, and later taken up by my former benefactor, may have returned to haunt us all” Exclamation mark.’

‘I didn’t know Rory was an Honourable.’

‘He’s the above-mentioned Lord Bittadon now, his father recently died.’

‘Oh my god! There’s talk Prue has gone back to him, you don’t think...’

‘More than likely.’

‘So, what you’re saying is, all that nonsense you made up on the spur of the moment whilst staring into the fire with Rory and which appeared in The Beacon is now being taken seriously as future government policy?’ She said, as we unloaded at the back of Checkley Manor.

‘Yes, amongst the right-thinking. Frimley’s group is attempting to straddle the gulf between the once great party and all the disaffected of the last ten years.’ I replied as we came to a halt in the hall. ‘It’s awfully quiet in here, we must be on time for once.’

We found our usual accommodation ready for us. But when we reached the big kitchen there was no sign of life. We finally tracked them down in the library, sat opposite each other, both absorbed in their respective screens. ‘What ho, what ho, aged aunt, your lordship.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned. You’re on schedule. Well done, Charlotte. Can’t be easy, bringing this one to heal.’

‘Well done Charlotte indeed! Take a look at this.’ Said the aunt. We leered at her screen, it showed a mock-up of the cover of the next issue of The Countrywoman, it was a photo of Charlie laughing with Mr and Mrs HRH with the headline, Countrywoman Correspondent Honoured at Windsor.

‘Two too many words, Countrywoman Correspondent Honoured, is better. Your discerning readers will know it can’t be Buck House by the shape of the windows.’

‘Not too tabloid?’

‘You can never be too tabloid.’

Over lunch, Uncle exclaimed; ‘Gregson introduced me to your student gardener the other day. You kept that one quiet. Odd lad, seemed more interested in the house than the estate.’

‘I’m afraid I gave him a copy of the book when he was on placement at the Park, he became as fascinated with the people as much as the landscape.’

‘I see.’

‘Tim, as you might imagine comes from generations of cap-doffing outdoor staff, he has no time for such deference, but his ambition is not for revolution, he’s after a piece of the action.’

‘Shacked-up with his girlfriend over at the cottage as we speak, I must say that’s very liberal minded of Mrs Gregson.’

‘One rule for the rich, beloved?’ Said Julia with deep irony.

‘What?’

‘I say, Uncle, how’s your health? No family history of heart attacks or seizures?’

‘No!’

‘Said girlfriend is the eldest child and heir to one Barnabas Gruber.’

‘Holy Moses!’

‘The vomiting bridesmaid?’

‘One and the same dearest aunt.’

‘Now you listen up, Anthony. This could spell disaster for all of us if it gets out of hand, you still cooperating with this, Gruber?’

‘Uncle, we shared a dorm at school!’

Then Charlie weighed in with; ‘The same could be said of Buffy Trumpton, remind me, how did that work out?’

‘Barmy, now a subject of the Crown, let me assure you, has turned himself into a charitable foundation, much along the lines of the Trust, I’ve just accepted a seat on their board.’

‘And what of the daughter?’

‘In fairness to Tony, Melisa’s been in and out of our place at least a couple of times a week for years, I realise now he’s been mentoring her from the start. I think you can be reassured on those grounds, sir.’

And after a pause; ‘Thank you Charlotte, you’re a blessing, who knows where we’d be without your steady hand. Sometimes I fear for England.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s been this United Kingdom for the last three hundred years.’

And so it all began, our month in the country, it turned out Melisa was only dropping by at weekends, too hugger-mugger with Jack at the workshop and dropping by Royal Oak. I’d gone alone to see the good captain before we left town. I suggested the time might be right, to write inviting Mrs HRH alone, to be patron. The wording would be everything, I asserted as I handed him a draft. ‘It’s very short!’ He responded.

‘Yes. You offer her a free hand, ask nothing but for the privilege.’

In time I bumped into Tim, whilst roaming the grounds. He had his eye in, mentioned south facing slopes conducive to modern commercial orchards, vineyards? I showed him the walled garden and the cellar, normally off-limits to Gregson. ‘But, there’s nothing inevitable about the peninsula becoming the next Bordeaux, this warming could be in retreat in another thirty years. We adapt to what we see today.’ He agreed to help out with an early picking due to the dry weather. Then I hit him with; ‘What do you know about Melisa’s family?’

‘With respect sir, what do you know?’

‘Everything.’

‘Then, you’ll tell me what I need to know, when I need to know it?’

‘Tim, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’

‘Sir?’

‘Closing line of a rather famous movie. A film about pragmatism, in time of war.’

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.’

142: Chilling out

In an effort to avoid ghosts of Christmas’ past, we’d decided to stay on at Checkley until the new year and in the process hopefully earn ourselves some brownie points from the uncle. I’d had the perfect excuse to curtail involvement with the book club and Charlie was relieved of the obligation to produce an ideologically unsound Tea.

But our mutual preoccupations travelled with us and Checkley is an excellent place to ruminate. It being mid-winter I took the opportunity to be brutal in my pruning of the vines. Charlie had her own concerns in the woods, but helped me in the walled garden off and on, particularly in the collecting and tying up of the pruned branches, which if allowed to dry in the barn would burn very rapidly and hot, excellent for barbeques and getting big wood fires underway.

‘I’ve been thinking about Kenneth, when did it start, this thing with Elisabeth?’

‘A year or two after she became a widow, I think.’

‘You said he told you that she’d told him about the circumstances of your parent’s death.’

‘Correct. But alas, that doesn’t help, or appear to help. The reason everyone took the official explanation at face value is that their car, although it went over the edge, didn’t catch on fire. The only passports found by the authorities were the British ones. They showed they’d left Switzerland that day, entered from Italy a week before. It looks like their deaths had nothing to do with anything.’

‘Has adding everyone’s passports to your chart helped?’

‘No not really, not yet. It shows two things so far, one my folks were fans of motoring tours of Europe, and two they never mixed travel on different passports. They were always one thing, or the other.’

‘What next?’

‘Add in data from father’s diaries and daybooks I suppose.’

‘Maybe Ken put himself alongside your aunt because he had the passports?’

‘Capital mistake to theorise without facts, Watson!’

But in truth I was still processing the cascade of news and gossip I’d been hit with at the Christmas lunch. Prudence seemed to have given up not just on Rory but the rest of us. Was that a good or bad thing? But perhaps I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of Rory? That he’d been able to apply his mind to anything, must be a good thing. Perhaps I should do the same, write my own novel. Now what would make a good subject, the way we live now, something from the past, or both? It would need to be positive though, on when the going was good, rather than like most modern writing which seems so, well, downtrodden and doom laden. And so much wishful thinking, rather than trying to get closer to the truth of something. But what about subject? I seem to, of necessity, acquired a mountain of knowledge, albeit a bit superficial, about railways of late. But that was a turn-off for most readers unless it contained the romance of travel with steam locomotives. And even then, thrillers on trains were as well-worn as a Rory Flotterton plot.

That Walpole should have become so territorial about his new home county was rather nice in a way. And fully committed to the railway, though it still wasn’t clear whether Helene welcomed him getting out from under her feet, or not. Was I wrong to be pragmatic with the elder Sparkwell, Walpole was outraged by the man on Charlie’s behalf, should I be the same? Well, it’s action that counts and it would be beyond arrogant to claim an understanding of her experience.

Junior Jack was clearly getting above himself, but that was fine, he’d already showed signs of new learning over the past few years. Charlie was right to seize the opportunity to help him out. The question now, was would the atmosphere of the club and maybe the history of the house, lead him to undo the modernisation of his hotel in order to match what was coming with the railway? At least he had some old photos on the walls of reception I’d noticed, upon which to contemplate.

The real Jack had already embraced respectability; it was just a question of no backsliding. Wainwright? I must find out if she planned to stick around the area, and do what? As for the cabal, the young Turks...

‘Ta-dah! Hey there you two.’

‘Who the devil?’ I mumbled as I looking up from my reverie. There, striking a pose in the entrance to the walled garden, stood Melisa. ‘Where did you spring from.’ I said more audibly.

‘We’re on a Christmas tour, of Tim’s relatives. There are bloody hundreds of them! This is day four, I think.’

‘Well, well, well.’ I replied.

‘How long are you stopping?’ Asked Charlie.

‘Arrived in time for lunch, staying overnight, then off to God knows where tomorrow. Still, Tim says these Gregsons are the really important ones. Can't think why, they’re hardly his closest relatives.’

‘How was lunch?’ I asked.

‘Bit heavy for me, Tim wolfed it down though, all the time hanging on Mr Gregson's words. I was surprised, he was telling him, basically, he should be grateful to you for all you’re doing for him and do whatever you tell him.’

‘Ah, yes that would sort of make sense.’

‘Then Tim asked him if there was any chance, he could take time off today to show him the whole estate and would his lordship and you mind? Then this Gregson said; “Just you leave his lordship to me boy”, and “I’m sure young Missy here could head-off Mr Anthony at the pass”. Then he told me where you’d be, and here I am.’

‘So Mel, you know Tim better than any of us, what does he want, career wise, what does he aspire to?’

‘Well, he doesn’t think that far ahead really; he’s fixed to go to the Park for his first placement, wants your garden centre to be the second, says there is some mystery about it he hasn’t discovered yet.’

‘Really.’

‘But when we entered the grounds this morning, he said how would I like to spend my summers here?’

‘And what do you think of that?’ asked Charlie.

‘Well, it’s all a bit samey, I mean, when you’ve seen one field, you’ve seen them all, haven’t you.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Tim did the garden for you before we left, I left him for a couple of hours with a thermos.’

‘I know, I get notified of any activity on security.’

‘What, pictures?’

‘Sure, anything around the back gate, back door, front door.’

‘Right.’

‘I’ve always thought he’s a bit of a voyeur on the quite.’ Charlie butted in.

‘So says the greatest exhibitionist I’ve ever met.’ I shot back.

‘Is it true what they say at the club, about there being a sextape online of you two?’

‘I wouldn’t dignify it with the title, Sextape, more like badly edited scraps from the Park’s old static security cameras back in the day. So bad, it’s not easy to work out who is doing what to whom.’

‘The stuff we’ve accidental recorded at home is much better!’ Charlie proudly announced.

‘How could it be accidental, if the cameras are by the entrances?’

‘You must have noticed the ones in the treatment room, put there to intimidate private clients.’ I asserted.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Hardly surprising if you think about it, a professional masseuse fetishizing the materials of her trade.’

‘Ha! Says the man who always joins in with enthusiasm.’

139: To the manor born

‘You two still yacking?’ She said, looking accusatively in my direction.

‘What is yacking?’ Said the voice from the chaise lounge.

‘To talk aimlessly.’ I interceded.

‘But we talk seriously, purposefully. And we are old buddies, ya?’

‘May I remind you, sir! We are due at Checkley in time for lunch. Number two car is out the front, packed and ready to go. No offence Barmy.’

‘Then we will conclude.’

‘What on earth is that?’ Charlie said looking at my screen.

‘Tony’s timeline, for the years preceding his parent’s death, so far it’s only plotted with the data from the two sets of passports, British and Swiss, but they are all road border crossings, we’ve been speculating.’

‘Amongst others things. I’ve also briefed Barmy on Jack, vis-a-vis Mel.’

‘Right.’

‘Give me a second and I’ll email this infographic to the two of you, all ideas welcome because although I learnt plenty from Daphne and Archie, that’s just eliminated possibilities, not actually suggested any answers.’

Barmy rose to leave; ‘Give some care to how you present the data, at some point you may want to give it to Eltham’s AI app. In time I’m sure he will connect it to all the road mapping data coming from his self-drive EV’s, that’s already including European borders, manned or not. If Wieck wanted the passports, or wanted them back, then it must still be a live issue, the present day should be your baseline.’

‘Holy shit!’

‘This is what they pay me for Charlie, holy shit, I see myself out.’

‘Do you trust Barmy?’ She asked when we were on the road.

‘I don’t need to; we’ve talked all this through before. Besides, we’re all family in a sense. The wildest question that occurs to me in sleepless moments is, was Barmy, then a recent import from Germany, placed alongside me at school on purpose, by persons unknown?’

‘Now that would be creepy! Anyway, what worries me now is how your uncle will react if our holiday is disturbed by my house hunting parents. I told Thayer to text any and all developments.’

‘I did pre-warn him that we might have to step out and meet your folks at some point.’

‘Thanks.’

As we were unloading at the manor, I said; ‘It’s been months and you still haven’t noticed when it’s staring you in the eye.’

‘Noticed what?’

‘Where the dish is.’

‘Should I have?’

‘This boot lid, it’s somewhat thicker than it used to be!’

‘Oh, my... I just thought I was losing it because I couldn’t get so much in. So, Jack’s lads fitted them to both?’

‘Sure, same method that’s used when they’re fitted under the skin of an aircraft.’

Then a voice-off shouted; ‘Come on you two, you're late.’

‘Fulsome apologies for our late arrive.’ I said as we came through the door of the big kitchen.

‘He says, dripping with sincerity.’ Replied uncle, with that whiff of existential despair.

‘Sorry too, in advance, for us being distracted by my parents.’ Added Charlie.

‘Now that’s, a legitimate excuse.’

A moment or two later, just as we were dunking fresh-baked bread into our homemade soup, my mobile pinged. When I raised my head from reading, they were all looking at me; ‘That was an email from Bernard.’

‘Who?’ Asked Julia.

‘His solicitor, someone finally caught up with him no doubt.’ Quipped the uncle.

‘Congratulations Charlie, you are, in the absence of any other claimants, now the proud owner of all the worldly goods of the late great Kenneth Murchison.’

‘And the flat?’

‘Any money raised to go to the Trust, Bernard suggests we give some thought to how his life might be memorialised, which by great good fortune is also now your responsibility too, given your position as lead trustee for charitable affairs.’

‘How much will the sale raise?’

‘Well, despite it having only one bedroom, it has as you’ve so often expressed, a grand location and situation, Bernard suggests there really is only one estate agent in the county capable of promoting...’

At which point Julia interrupted my peroration by reaching over and handing Charlie what looked like a copy of the forthcoming edition of The Countrywoman, presumably containing the photo spread of, and her extended captions on, the royal visits. There was a cheque paper-clipped to the front, though I was unable to read the amount.

‘But this is way too much.’ Protested Charlie.

‘Nonsense my dear, this is the second time in the magazine’s history you’ve enabled us to put Royal Exclusive on the cover.’

Late afternoon I went in search of Gregson before he packed up for the day. ‘You had me confused when you arrived sir, you not heading for the vines, like.’

‘We were late, and I rather assumed they’d be neglected.’

‘His lordship struggles a bit these days, though I doubt he’d admit as much.’ Then, looking directly at me, he said; ‘I must thank you for what you’re doing for our Tim.’

‘Er, Tim Adler is one of yours?’

‘Cousin Irene’s boy. She married an Adler, funny that. My father had three brothers, that’s how Gregsons is everywhere hereabouts. He used to love visiting when he was a nipper.’

‘He’s a useful gardener, and smart with it!’

‘Of course you see that, sir. Steering him towards the Arlington Trust and all. The others, family like, they see good school work and think, chance to get out of rural concerns. Always liked the lad. What do you make of this girl he’s hanging around with?’

‘Ah! She’s the daughter of old friends, known her since she was a child too. Tell anyone who’s concerned to rest easy.’

‘Now I must tell you, we had a day out on the railway the other day, there was a call out for volunteers to try out the first battery train. The wife put together a traditional picnic basket, quite a party atmosphere in our carriage in the end. Then afterwards we repaired at the Railway Arms, wonderful display of old photos, I couldn’t help wondering what’s intended for the bay platforms that used to take trains up the valley?’

‘Well, there is a thought they would make a good location for servicing a Dining Train, that could shuttle up and down in the evenings.’

‘Use some old Brighton Belle Pullman’s likely as not?’

‘No, no. They’re all in use by the charter trains. No, the thought is a couple of Mark One buffet cars could be restored as proper kitchen cars, back-to-back, with open First Class carriages at either end. Authentic, mid nineteen fifties.’

‘Course if you were to do it proper like you’d need to be serving Brown Windsor soup, lamb and two veg. Maybe suet pudding to finish.’

‘Perhaps we should hire your good lady to consult!’

The Moor takes people in different ways. Though we were only to be away twenty-four hours, I’d spent many hours prepping Charlie and she was in constant touch with Junior Jack. Little could be left to chance. I insisted for example that the room we would use overnight must be inferior to the one occupied by Sparkwell KC and wife.

‘We are lowly, we are humble, we attend upon and defer to. Whilst you sit demurely and hold your tongue, I am enthralled by his every utterance.’ I expounded, as I drove us through the labyrinth of moorland roads.

‘You’re going to have me behave in just the way father always expected of me. He’ll assume I’ve finally been broken on the wheel.’

‘It’s a game I’m willing to play because I’m not you. I’m guessing the fastest way to get him to relax and feel safe, is to mirror him. And tomorrow is a Sunday.’

I’m sure dear reader you are only too familiar with the modern hotel dining experience, which of course is why we have the club, so I’ll cut to the chase. Talk of house hunting arose of its own accord, but it wasn’t until later over coffee in the lounge that Sparkwell senior felt able to unburden himself. ‘Our worry, as even you may appreciate Charlotte, is as much about finding a spiritual home as a material one.’

‘I wonder sir, when you were consulting Mr Thayer, whether you took the opportunity of visiting the cathedral?’

‘Most certainly.’

‘Well, on the floor above County Estates is the office of my accountant Lawrence Brinkley, he does the cathedral’s books. And on the floor above him is my solicitor one Bernard Merriweather who is the Chancellor of the diocese of said cathedral, now they’re a gossipy old pair but, it strikes me they might be well-up on the kind of gossip, you’d want to know about.’

‘You seem remarkably well-connected Tony?’ Said Charlie’s mother.

‘Well, everyone knows everyone else hereabouts, it’s just the way it is.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. You’ve given us much to think about.’

‘Perhaps we should leave it there for today then.’

‘Yes, tomorrow is an early start. The manager informs me the local church is but a short walk.’

‘Only five minutes, but uphill all the way, father.’ Said Charlie, rising majestically.

138: A walk in the park

‘He’s fast isn’t he, how come he’s so fast?’ I said, looking down to the end of the garden.

‘He’s young.’ Declared Charlie.

‘He’s always fast.’ Added Melisa, with a chuckle.

‘And he barely takes five minutes for tea!’

‘He’s always quick to recover too.’

‘Well answer me this Mel, given his height, how come he doesn’t have a stoop?’

‘He's had his spade customised, it's got a longer shaft. Always uses his own tools. Has quite a bag full in the van.’

‘Taken to chauffeuring him around I take it?’

‘We practically live in the van.’

‘Really.’

‘When I cleared out the back of all Mr Mackintosh’s stuff, Jack showed me his van, he has all this great flooring, he gave me a length off his roll.’

‘Does Jack know your father?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You should introduce them some time.’

‘Why?’

‘Has Jack explained all the computer electronics in his van?’

‘No, just says it’s all for driver assist, self-drive.’

‘Ah! Actually, it’s more about counter measures shall we say, that’s why I think your dad might be interested.’

‘But he’s official, whilst Jack is...’

‘Your father is an independent consultant, brought in because the state apparatus has trouble keeping up with the private economy, he lets them in on what he thinks they ought to know. Comprende?’

‘I think I might be beginning to!’

‘Why are we doing this?’

‘A walk in the woods, when have you ever been known to turn down a walk in the woods?’

‘Another, “inspecting the works” I meant.’

‘Because Brinkley is insisting on attending this afternoon’s board meeting to hammer home the need for tight accounting. And he will also be nervous about the degree to which the Trust has been lending to the Park company over the water works. I need to be well armoured against attack, not to mention uncle.’

We walked down from the back of the house, on top of the now refilled new trench. ‘It leaves quite a scar on the landscape.’ Observed Charlie, walking in front.

‘Yes, we need to stop people using it as a path, especially if we try and plant new stuff, might be a project for young Tim in due course.’

‘Is it all on a new alignment?’ She said, coming to a halt.

‘More or less.’ I replied, walking on. ‘Once the contractors had realised there was an easier gradient to be had, they were only too pleased not to dig out the old piping. It’s probably modern diggers that make it worth while going deeper to get a better lie, meaning the pump doesn’t have to work so hard.’

‘Hey!’ She said, her voice now a little distant. ‘If you look back, you can see intermittent patches of better tree growth, over there and there.’ I wandered back a step or two. ‘I’m sure that’s where there have been longstanding leaks.’

‘More money saved then.’

In time we reached the restored pumping station, the only point in the parkland where you can hear the flowing river before you see it.

‘Very smart. What’s that?’ She said, looking at a new grey panel in the wall.

‘One of Eltham’s battery storage things, fed from the solar panel on the roof, supplements the mains, covers power cuts as well.’ I fiddled with the keys borrowed from the office. ‘We’ve kept the old back-up generator; it’s just been reconditioned. It’s the electric pump that’s all new, latest computer controlled what’s it! Oh look, it looks just like it does in the catalogue.’

‘What’s the yellow, hazard, electric, nuclear sign thing on the door for?’

‘Oh, just there to keep the curious away. Well, everything looks to be in order. Seen enough?’

‘Expensive.’ She said as I locked-up.

‘It’ll last well beyond my lifetime.’

‘Depends how fast you intend to age. I need to keep you on your toes. Let’s go back another way, where it’s more secluded.’

Uncle and I took our pre-meet at the veranda bar as usual. He opened with; ‘You look flushed.’

‘Tight schedule today, scratch lunch.’

How’s Charlotte?’

‘Fine. She’s here about, somewhere.’

‘Never stops, eh?’

‘She has projects of her own.’

‘Rather putting you in the shade these days.’

‘I’m a contented consort. How’s Julia?’

‘Your aunt is worried about me, damn near stopped me driving here today.’ Then, after a pause; ‘I’m not so old, all things considered, a man’s as young as he feels.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘You know perfectly well. Look, I concede Mrs Gregson is happier now their cottage is done and hence Gregson goes about his business more contentedly, which makes all our lives easier. And, the brickworks, well I’d probably never have got around to it. You force the pace, fine. I know I’m slow, but I’m not incapable.’

‘Pace yourself.’

‘Quite. But why this separate company though, A & C Restorations?’

‘Well, it’s just Charlie and I, quite separate from the Trust. Therefore, in the fullness of time, A & C can merge with Checkley, or Checkley take it over. Maybe one just subsidises the other, but the point is, neither will be subsumed by the Trust. Over time my influence over them is bound to wane.’

‘I see, and ultimately the Park might be more secure too.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Anyway, you’ll be with us within the week, we can talk more then. The two of you are going to be busy, there’s much to be done.’

‘Ah! Small fly in the ointment. Charlie’s parents will be roaming the county looking for a retirement property, we may have to take some time out.’

‘Damn!’

As we left the bar via the lounge, Ada Armitage could be seen deep in conversation with none other than Brinkley. I froze on the spot. Then I remembered the two had met over the matter of the railway station which never had trains. Larry looked distinctly sheepish as we approached their table.

‘Good afternoon young man.’ Ada said with a glint in her eye; ‘I’ve just been asking Lawrence, I may call you that, may I?’

‘Of course, dear lady.’

‘I was just asking Lawrence what he thought my shares might be worth, I shan’t break a confidence by telling you his reply, but I wonder what you think they’re worth Anthony?’

I was acutely aware of uncle’s presence beside me and Brinkley, glaring; ‘Whatever a worthy recipient is prepared to pay.’ It was the best I could come up with on the spur of the moment.

‘Most gallant.’ She replied.

‘We’re in the club committee room when you’re done.’

The business of the meeting seemed to take an age. Uncle took the chair as usual. I reported on the water pipe, the pumping station and the cost. I offered my view on the loan, the period of extension for repayments and a reasonable interest rate that the Park could afford, and I hoped the Trust would approve. Uncle looked pleased, Brinkley bristled. Lawrence then let off steam by outlining the discipline that the responsible staff must show in their accounting methods.

He then surprised us all saying; ‘Finally, changing the subject entirely, I’d like to take the opportunity of informing the board that the Arlington Trust has had a letter from our, other university.’ He then produced said item and began to read aloud; ‘From the “Faculty of Agriculture and Rural Sustainability, Floor Ten, Drake’s Tower, City Campus”. It’s from the “Placements and Apprenticeships Officer” of the “School of Horticulture”, which as we all know is actually located at the opposite end of the county, but they are of course looking to place students, I’m about to send out copies to all parts of the Trust, but I thought I’d just let you know...’

‘Well, I’ll be damned! The lad’s even better organised than I’d imagined. I’ll draft the reply thank you Brinkley.’

137: Father, mother and me

‘Oh my god, they’re coming to visit.’

‘That’s nice.’

‘Nice! You’ve met him.’

‘Well, it’s a situation that’s doable, at least for a short time. When are they are coming?’

‘Not for a while.’ Charlie replied, her head in her mother’s handwritten missive. ‘And father’s finally retiring. I don’t believe it. Oh no! He wants to “take the opportunity to look at properties in the west country.” Well, they can stay off the Riviera for a start. And she wants me to recommend a hotel. I suppose the Grand is, well, what they’d consider grand.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, you are slow sometimes, send them where you’ve got a man on the inside, the Manor House.’

‘Right, I wasn’t thinking.’

‘Junior Jack is just the fellow to keep your father in order, looming in the lounge. And another thing, you’ve got friends, if your parents are moving it’s a chance to find out all the legal ins and outs of your family, steer them towards Barney Benson, better still go in on the ground floor and hit them with Thayer, it’s what that building is for.’

‘County Estates is outside father’s price range I should think.’

‘But Thayer will offer to find them their ideal property, if he knows what’s good for him.’

For once it was me inviting Daphne for lunch at the club. After the usual pleasantries I tried to get swiftly to business. ‘We need to have a serious talk Daph, ghosts from the past are, unsettling me, shall we say.’

‘Gosh! Not more accusations about me being an agent for my father I hope?’

‘No. But let me apologise in advance, I do have to ask you about your father’s world. If you’re able to answer, please do so, if not, try to distinguish between don’t know, and not at liberty to say.’

‘Hell, this had better be important. I’ve had enough of trips down memory lane. So, what’s this all about?’

‘I don’t know, that’s the point. Who or what is, or was, Casper Wieck?’

‘A hanger-on of Daddy’s.’

‘They worked together?’

‘Sure, and used to see each other in retirement.’

‘Just, how senior was your father in the end?’

‘Deputy Chief.’

‘And Wieck?’

‘Head of Personnel.’

‘Sounds a bit euphemistic!’

‘No, but yes. I mean government communications is a big employer, the seventies, a time of expansion for them. Lots of positive vetting. But yes, sort of internal security as well. And...’

‘Yes?’

‘Look Tony, there were all sorts of formal channels for distributing the product, with Whitehall committees attached. But once in a while, there had to be informal, face to face contact with odd individuals from the other agencies. Wieck would handle that. When I was a kid, if Daddy had to be contacted out of hours, it would be Wieck who came to the cottage. That was the only time, you know, hand on the shoulder afterwards; “You know Daddy’s work is a bit secret, no need to mention the visit”. My point is, Wieck was the only one who really knew anything about the world of the spooks.’

‘And what was Murchison’s role?’

‘Ken? He was entertainment. Same generation, only stayed a few years, the butt of jokes often, I mean he was the last of his kind, had to oversee, climbing telegraph poles, messing with mechanical exchanges, you know, your actual adding extra kit to wires, international cables, museum stuff. And radio of course. Amuses Barmy to this day. What’s this really all about Tony?’

‘He was genuinely attached to my aunt Elisabeth, not just the gardener, left an old Will, leaving her everything. Why was Wieck at the funeral?’

‘Out of respect?’

‘Tidying up loose ends more like, only he didn’t succeed. How’s Barmy?’

‘Fine, I think. In Germany, with a solicitor, one of your lot. Wills again, one of his many relatives dropped off the twig. Barmy thinks he can snatch another chuck of the family fortune for the foundation. Mel keeps saying all that nonsense will stop with her, rather admire her for it.’

Over the years Charlie and I have tried to limit our visits to Head Office, in our great cathedral city. Killing as many birds with one stone as possible. And we’ve got into the habit of entering by the ground floor and working our way up. The first surprise of the day was to find Barmy lounging with Thayer at the back of the shop; ‘I was told you were in Germany.’

‘That was yesterday. We were talking about you. Ways of turning cash into bricks and mortar.’

‘I was saying, how profit, in rural enterprises rarely tells you about the real value of assets like land and buildings.’ Thayer explained.

‘Quite right.’

‘Brinkley sent word he wants to see you two. And since you’ll be going that way you might care to deliver these papers regarding your old apartment. Tell him he has forty-eight hours to fix it, whatever the fix is, before those details go in the window, at market price!’

‘Number forty-two is sold?’

‘Finally.’

‘Right. Now, we never arrive without a purpose, over to you Charlie?’

‘My father is retiring, looking for a property in the west country, we were wondering if you could, I can’t believe I’m talking like this, help manage the situation, facilitate an outcome, conducive to all parties...’

‘Being as how, you’ve just told the whole world you’ve never got on!’ Thayer interrupted.

‘Did I? Oh god.’

‘Fear not, point them in my direction, I’ll endeavour to keep all parties satisfied. Now, you don’t want to keep Lawrence waiting, besides Mr Gruber here, by all accounts is an even more important client than you Tony.’

‘That man is getting ideas above his station.’ I said as we ascended the back stairway to the first floor.

Upon entered, Brinkley’s voice boomed; ‘In here you two.’ I was beginning to regret the comprehensiveness of security in the building, but then I only had myself and Fin Heptonstall to blame!

Just as Brinkley opened his mouth to speak, I shoved Thayer’s papers in his face, then took up my usual position of admiring the second-best view.

‘Yes. Yes.’ He mumbled whilst perusing the papers; ‘Mackintosh has been much on my mind of late. In more ways than one. Are we committed to this?’

‘Gentleman’s agreement, handshake and everything, an offer to treat, and an acceptance.’

‘Leave the law to Bernard, Tony. You have noted the difference in these figures?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thayer knows the market.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I...’

‘Cat has already paid in kind, future prospects with Jack’s garage look very rosy.’

‘Jack! This office has no truck with him.’

‘Then I’m your cut-out, I keep you squeaky clean!’

‘Yes, well that’s as maybe. And now, Mackintosh wants to institute a park run, of all things, Charlotte?’

‘It’s an idea, it would have to be a cross-country event, not enough paths and they’d have to stay off the golf course, he suggested a paper chase, keep it traditional.’

‘Insurance will never wear it. Plus, with your MP’s visit, this leaves the whole park organisation severely exposed.’

‘Larry, you’re not making any sense.’

‘It doesn’t matter how well you’ve sweet-talked her; MPs have to account for their every action these days, two forms, it’s either expenses or the register of freebies!’

‘So?’

‘Public documents, it won’t be her, just some, beady-eyed left-wing journalist, one article, one call to the tax office, that’s all it takes. We need to formalise certain internal arrangements at the Park.’

‘How?’

‘Three departments, say Spa and Sports, Conference Facilities, House and Hospitality. Clear accounting, if Macintosh is organising events for Spa and Sports, that’s consulting or volunteering, not the club which is just renting from House and Hospitality. Wooley rents from Conference Facilities, however much he wines and dines guests in the club, follow?’ He said looking in Charlie’s direction.

‘The whole point of the Park is it’s informality.’ She replied.

‘It’s appearances and reality again Charlie, paperwork makes stuff, official.’ I interceded.

‘Oh, right.’

‘Agreed?’ Asserted Brinkley.

‘Agreed. Where’s Bernard?’

‘Incommunicado.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘At home, in Spain, the doctors have ordered complete rest. No online, no nothing.’

‘What’s happened?’ As I was asking, Charlie spied something behind Brinkley’s chair and rose to investigate.

‘Fell over in the outage, hairline fracture, whole foot and ankle strapped up, stick and everything...’

‘In the outhouse?’

‘In the power cut!’

‘Another one!’ Charlie exclaimed, holding up a new bottle; ‘Irish whisky not enough? Bespoke again I suppose.’ Turning it to the light she continued; ‘Seriously? “Brinkley’s Rum”, oh come on!’

‘Care for a glass?’

‘No thanks.’

‘Slip-up stairs and you’ll find Bernard now offers, raspberry and lemon liqueurs.’

‘Charlie, we’re leaving. Clearly, we’re paying these people too much!’

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!’