135: Valet parking

‘...then I had to change my trousers, with the Don cooing over my tatts!’ Exclaimed Sparkwell as she chauffeured me towards the club.

‘At least you knew he wasn’t admiring the rest of you.’

‘Oh! I almost forgot, why is Captain Bob so happy?

‘One royal visit that went off without a hitch? The promise of further patronage?’

‘More than that, I knew him long before I met you, remember? It was like, the visit had solved all sorts of stuff, a weight of his shoulders. He said; “Tell Tony we did it, we bloody well did it.” I know the only reason you two would cut me out, is it must be politics.’

‘Politics and the bureaucracy that comes with it. Now then, national government and local government are by no means the same thing. However, you remember with the railway how we took advantage of the chaos of the end of one parliament and the start of the chaos of another, well, our local government is in the limbo of reorganisation. What the county and the cities are responsible for is changing, just as the districts are disappearing. I’ll be better able to explain after my lunch with counsel for the defence.’

As we entered the Park, Walpole could be seen hovering by the unusually open back door, it being of course the original front door to the house. The scene made our legal eagle look like the owner of a very fine country seat. ‘I’ll drop you at the door, sir.’

‘Very well, Sparkwell.’

‘Then proceed to park, I’ll be around should you require me.’

I did my best to gracefully exit the two-seater. Approaching, I proclaimed; ‘You look like the lord and master of all you survey!’

‘Oh, thank you very much, I must say the ambience here does give one a rather unique feeling of ownership.’

‘And the look suits you.’

‘You flatter me.’

‘Not in the least. Only too appropriate, since today you’re my host.’

Then his gaze shifted to the carpark behind me; ‘What’s your paramour doing, exactly?’

I turned; ‘My valette, is merely preparing to vacuum the interior. Keeping everything spick and span. She’s a very disciplined woman, especially when in uniform.’

‘I see. I don’t mean to be rude, but there’s always seems something, well, borderline kinky about your relationship.’

‘I say! Steady on old man.’

‘During my career I was often forced to spend long hours viewing the prosecution evidence held by Vice, decidedly un-erotic videos, but one learnt to recognise the traits of the sub and the dom.’

‘Sparkwell and I enjoy a high trust relationship, I can assure you.’

‘Ah. Of course, you could hardly swop around roles all the time without it.’

‘We’re not in the cells below the Bailey now, and I’m not your client.’

‘Just a bit of fun. In the hour of our great victory.’

‘You think we, have won?’

‘Oh, yes. And to cap it all you’ve made Charlie a star.’

‘Well, given her fifteen minutes of fame anyway.’

‘I’ve known The Beacon a lot longer than you. I’d say she’s well on the way to becoming a national treasure. Helene reads, every day, the print edition of The Beacon’s principal rival, her world view is built upon it. Now they normally have the edge when comes to royal stories, but now they’ve been utterly humiliated. And no doubt had to pay Don a small fortune for the privilege.’

‘Let’s go in.’

‘Of course.’

We passed by the flight simulator, it had an ‘Out of order’ notice on it; ‘What! Not again. What is it this time?’

‘Barmy’s uploading a software update of his own devising.’ Said an anonymous voice.

‘One wonders why, when all it’s only ever used for is refighting World War Two.’ I said as an aside to Walpole.

In time we settled to lunch. ‘So, what makes you confident everything’s in the bag?’

‘At my last meeting at county hall, when they finally signed off on footpaths, bridepaths, lineside fencing and reinstalled level crossings, one of the officials said we’d better hurry up with car park applications because reorganisation was already causing endless delays. It was on the tip of my tongue to declare; “There will be no car parks” when I thought there might be an advantage to keeping quiet.’

‘You think they are thinking they can just sit back and watch the chaos of choked country lanes and mass illegal parking as seen in other parts of the country where, unlike us, lines are cut off from the network? And with the additional assumption that we’ll be encouraging it in a desperate attempt to maximise visitor numbers in order to turn a profit.’

‘Waiting their moment to hit us with court orders and massive fines.’

‘How could they not know?’

‘Filter bubbles! Ideological and geographic.’

‘Blimey! As Charlie would say.’

‘Anyway, I then decided to snoop a little, mindful of what you and Bernard have said about the status of Royal Oak. One or two of the councillors also sit on health and social care committees. Similar delays in enforcing regulations, similar sitting back thinking they’ll hit Charlie and Co at a time of maximum impact. A combination of bureaucratic pettiness and moral superiority. And an addiction to spending other people’s money.’

‘Just in time then.’

‘Two knockout blows delivered on the same day. The ultimate endorsement. And lots of free publicity.’

‘We win in the final court of appeal, before they even litigate.’

‘Nothing can stop you now Anthony.’

Suddenly there was the sound of a most appalling scream, male in origin was my guess, and emanating from just outside in the garden.

In the push to get to the front door, originally the back door, and the collision outside, caused by working out which direction to go in, I lost sight of Walpole. We, the crowd, however were soon forced to pull-up just short of the spa by the scene that presented itself, it looked to be some form of water torture. To one side of the spa’s little drinking fountain, there was what might be described as like a large, broad, garden water butt, full and overflowing. Amongst the overspill creeping across the ground towards us were clearly visible ice cubes. Inside the container was what appeared to be a naked Tuffy, desperately struggling, but failing to extricate himself. Alongside stood Sparkwell, now in fitness trainer’s apparel, clutching a stopwatch and clipboard, looking on with cold detachment.

Walpole, who’d succeeded in nudging his way through the cheering and goading crowd, declared; ‘I’m reliably informed it’s a freebie from the Rep trying to sell the spa a sauna, it’s a DIY garden cold plunge.’

Soon Tuffy seemed to exhaust himself, calmed down, and realised the quickest way out was the reverse of the way he got in. On emerging he was revealed to be wearing white undergarments, now clinging and transparent, exposing his much-shrivelled appendage. After he’d rapidly departed, the crowd quietened down considerably. Someone commented; ‘What I don’t understand is how she got him in there in the first place?’

Some wit replied; ‘Led him up the garden path, literally.’

No one questioned the treatment being metered out. Knowing Tuffy of old, everyone rather took it for granted that the punishment fitted the crime. Walpole drew me to one side; ‘There you go, I told you. Tell me, what does she call herself in private, Mistress Charlotte?’

117: The art of travel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He means the attic, right?’ I asked.

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

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

‘Oh! Right.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Certainly not!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Not that I recall.’

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

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

‘I imagine so.’

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

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

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

‘Me?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

End of season nine

116: Girl porter

‘I feel left out.’ So mused Sparkwell.

‘But you’re always at the heart of the action.’

‘I may be present, but mostly I’m observing your actions!’

‘But your life is busier and more demanding than mine.’

‘Precisely, sir. Such is the lot of the deputy-assistant-undermanager throughout history.’

‘It’s an age thing. I’m the brains and you’re the brawn.’

‘Be afraid, be very afraid.’ And after a short pause; ‘What I meant was this railway caper of yours, not life in general.’

‘Ah! Well, an idea did occur to me some time ago, but I’m not sure you’d approve, you’d be the ideal person to, but...’

‘What?’

‘That you should be the “face” of the English Riviera Railway.’

‘As in model?’

‘As in poster girl.’

‘But railways are kind of, boys’ toys.’ So said Charlie, tinkering with her coffee machine.

‘Yes, and that’s one of the things we just can’t get away with any more. Especially a project such as this, dependant as we are on lots of volunteers and community support.’

‘Oh no! Not another woman in a masculine role.’

‘Girl porter, the cheeky chappie, tripling her wages in tips. Traditionally, porters at mainline London termini made a very good living!’

‘This would just be for a photoshoot?’

‘Well, maybe a screen printed, nineteen thirties style railway poster too. Oh, and the occasional opening.’

‘Opening?’

‘Cutting of ribbons etcetera. The problem would be finding an authentic looking uniform...’

‘But my picture could end-up, anywhere?’

‘Well yes, once we become popular. Permission to invite Edoardo for a lunch at the club?’

‘Exploratory talks only, at which I’ll be present. And of course, there would be both one-off fees and repeats coming with wider exploitation.’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Dear lady, a pleasure to meet you again. You’ve been neglecting me; it must be all of twelve months.’

‘I’ve not had the chance to wear-out any of your clothes yet.’ Charlie replied.

‘Tony! Is this true? More evenings out, I think. More trips to fashionable locations.’

‘Eddie.’ He was clearly in Edoardo mode, playing up the Italian side of his descent, in what for him was definitely a posh location. ‘Been enjoying more trips to Gstaad?’

‘No, we don’t go back. You just need to see it once I think. Very generous client, but showing off. You, you buy me lunch because you want something, value for money guy, more equitable.'

Cockney Eddie was sensing fun, as well as the money. ‘Order whatever you feel you’re worth, my dear fellow.’

‘So, Tony. You’re still going for the short hair, rather than the distinguished grey, like myself.’

‘Charlie is fully in charge of matters of style and taste these days, if you want to get to me, you have to get to her.’

‘But we all have our little affectations, you go for the flowery buttonhole, I the coloured handkerchief in the top pocket.’

‘Tony has a scheme, Eddie! A project. In which apparently, I’m just the pretty face.’

‘Anthony, how could you!’

The next forty minutes or so, despite intermittent chatter, seemed to consist in me watching Eddie eat, whilst I picked at my food, under the watchful eye.

‘So, this project involves clothes for Charlotte presumably, otherwise why would I be here?’

‘You’ve heard of this idea of extending the heritage railway?’

‘Sure. So, you’ve got a finger in that now.’

‘In a very modest way, I’m no expert on railways, but it seems a good bet for a small investment by the Trust.’

‘Don’t fall for the false modesty, he’s in it up to his eyeballs!’

‘I am merely a facilitator.’

‘Okay, I believe you.’ He replied.

‘I had an idea that Charlotte should be the face of the publicity campaign. Now obviously everything is modelled on the old Great Western Railway, better known as just the GWR, but also known as God’s Wonderful Railway. I thought she could be a sort of mascot, the cheery porter, there to serve, but she’d need an authentic looking uniform, and maybe with your contacts, such as Sally, you could make that happen.’

‘But why?’

‘Well at worst for the money! By the way, I note that both Charlotte and I are currently significantly in credit with you. But really, I imagined you might find it an interesting project, something to grab your interest, something other than using up your semi-retirement hours doing routine repairs?’

‘You know, once I was thought of as one of the best, the finest stitching applied to the finest cloth. You could have offered me the General Manager, or at least the Chief Mechanical Engineer, the designer of fine locomotives, but no you come to me for the lowest of the low, the cheapest of workman’s clothes. Not even worthy of a silver railway pocket watch.’

‘I never had you down as a snob Edoardo!’

‘I’m not talking that kind of class, I’m talking skill, quality, expertise.’

‘But I am talking about skill, it’s a performance, an illusion, like your valet uniforms. In the act of creating a uniform to fit Charlie, you transform. A tuck here, a tuck there. Suddenly the figure hugging trouser and the not quite big enough waistcoat...’

‘Okay, enough of the mansplaining.’ Chipped in Charlie.

‘Well? You hesitate Eddie, not like you at all. There’s something else isn’t there.’

‘You know my doctor would be most disapproving of my diet today.’

‘Well yes, I can imagine.’

‘All my life I have strived for the good things. When you get them, the medical profession tells you it’s too late to enjoy them. Just watching you two makes me feel guilty.’

‘Yes, well, I must confess, were it not for the presence of Charlie I’d probably be joining in with you. I’m sure she’d be willing to take you on as a private client; relaxation, therapeutic massage, meditation, a little gentle yoga - you’d come away a man transformed...’ Eddie looked like he was about to choke on his jam roll and spray the finest cream custard over all of us.

After much coughing; ‘My life would be intolerable. Oh! No disrespect to you my dear. I’m sure you provide a valuable service to those willing to live in the modern world. You are Anthony’s, what’s the name I’m looking for, a new thing people are calling themselves, a “Performance Consultant”, that’s the one.’

‘Oh, yes. She’s definitely that, in all domains!’

Then Charlie suggested; ‘Let’s take our coffees in front of the open fire Eddie. Oh! I almost forgot Tony, the club sec said he wanted a word earlier.’

‘Then I’ll join you later.’ If Charlie had an intervention up her sleeve, I was more than happy to let her take point.

When I returned to the lounge they were gone. Charlie caught up with me as I was loitering around the entrance, trying to work out what action to take over the latest games room notice; ‘No Recreational Play Permitted’, a good joke, Cat’s work no doubt, but it really couldn’t be allowed to stand. Ah, well.

‘He’s in!’ She said without pausing, making strides for the car.

‘What did I miss?’

‘He just wants a cut of the action with the railway that’s all. I got him to talk about his childhood. He’s south London, right sentiment old boy, just the wrong railway, he’s the Southern, rival routes to the west country. Our Eddie, as a young lad, spent the swinging sixties spotting on Waterloo Station!’

94: Funeral

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

‘What days?’

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

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

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

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

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

‘We’re not late, are we?’

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

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

‘Friends of your mother presumably.’

‘She saw practically no one after father died.’

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

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

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

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

‘Right.’

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

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

‘Of course not, Tony.’

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

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

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

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

‘What are you saying?’

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

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

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

‘Thanks, old man.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘We’ll let you entertain the ladies.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Groaned Brian.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes.’

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

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

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

89: Fish out of water

‘What have you got planned, for whilst I’m away?’ Asked Charlie as I was about to wave her away at the mews.

‘Only a lunch with Walpole, so far.’

‘He’ll be able to explain father better than I can.’

‘Surely the train would have been easier?’

‘It’s actually a long way from the station, and much easier once I get there.’

‘Oh, well, enjoy the open road, or whatever.’

‘I’ll be back in time to oversee Melisa’s placement. Cheery-oh, pip, pip, as your lot would say.’

‘I’ll have the steak and kidney pudding, plenty of mashed spud and tell cook not to skimp on the gravy.’

‘And, cod and chips for myself. Something to drink?’

‘Oh! A glass of your best cooking claret please.’

‘A bottle of the house Bordeaux Red, thank you. Nice to see you getting into the spirit of things.’

‘One day, if I win the lottery, I’ll be able to afford to put-up myself, and return the favour.’

‘Stranger things have happened.’

‘I imagine you want me to talk about Charlotte’s father?’

‘Oh, not in the least. My approach has always been to avoid asking her, just listen on the odd occasions when she chooses to mention him. When she met you for the first time at the gallery, she was being genuinely respectful, she wasn’t playing the Valette.’

‘The only occasion we’d been in the same room before, was years ago, in court, when she came to watch her father in action. I meant to try and speak to her then, but she didn’t stay long. I don’t like second-hand gossip, I like to check out my facts, make up my own mind. I’m pleased to see her so happy, settled.’

‘Well, tell me what he’s like at the law then? From the horse’s mouth, so to speak.’ I said smiling.

Walpole looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘You know, that fellow they’ve got leading the opposition in parliament at the moment? Technically, he’s a bit like him. Always trying to impress the judge, rather than appeal to a jury. Hopeless for the defence, a natural prosecutor. But in other respects, quite different. Practices mainly in the civil courts. You see, in point of fact, not to beat about the bush, he’s a zealot!’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yes. A zealot for the law, a law as seen through the lens of traditional, protestant, high church, Christian beliefs. That god bothering society of his has quite a few followers, but essentially, it’s him. And in your face, all the time. That’s what I can’t stand. So, utterly convinced of his own convictions. I imagine, and I do mean imagine, that’s what Charlotte couldn’t stick, she obviously read the bible for her own sake, chose tolerance, acceptance. I often read The Beacon, mainly for the law reports you understand, so I realise she does work for the homeless on the side.’

‘Yes, she’s been involved for a long time, persuaded our Trust to chip-in and taken a seat on their committee on our behalf.’

‘Charles, it is always Charles, never a Charlie, used to express his frustration with his daughter all the time. We shared chambers for a while. As I say, unverified gossip, not worth recalling.’

‘A little bird told me you were also acquainted with our Chief Constable Wainwright?’

‘Ha! I laughed like a drain when I saw her pictured with your Crimean gold.’

‘I got her out of bed that day.’

‘Really! No, funny how first encounters stick with you, she doesn’t appear to have changed at all, a stickler for correctness. Caught her with a left hook on her first appearance down the Bailey. Jack told you, did he?’ I nodded. ‘I met Jack, when I got him off a charge of handling. Smart guy, understands other’s expertise, behaved exactly as I told him to in the witness box.’

‘We have an informal, business relationship, I flatter myself I bring an air of respectability to his world.’

‘Oh, I’m sure. I ought to say, I’ve not mentioned to my wife that I’ve reconnected with Jack, and the likes of our Chief of Police, she has a tendency to believe gossip and pass it on without question.’

‘Absolutely. Understood.’

‘Still, a blessing in disguise, from time to time. You can bet that the news of Charlotte doing well for herself, keeping out of trouble I mean, has already got back to her mother. Terribly incestuous, the law.’

‘And for dessert?’

‘Jam roly-poly with custard, I think.’

We took our coffees to the log fire in the lounge and settled in. ‘Now, have I got this right, Brinkley is your accountant, Merriweather your solicitor?’

‘Correct.’

‘I was just getting settled in the law, as a barrister, when they go and let solicitor’s take the very bread from our mouths.’

‘According to Lawrence, Bernard’s problem is not so much the law, as not understanding judges.’

‘Oh, you bet! Most of the work may be done in writing these days, but that just makes judges even more bureaucratically minded. Bernard, as you call him, opened up a bit about Sparkwell QC giving him a mauling. Again, it all comes back to not being able to keep God almighty out of court, or do I mean, keeping the law out of the church. How can I put this politely, one shouldn’t be surprised if your friends continue to soft-pedal their relationship, particularly if they’re committed Christians? Being of that generation, they’d see Sparkwell senior as a real potential menace and your Charlotte, well as a probable victim, but also, as a possible ally.’

In order to wake up again after a heavy lunch, I took Walpole on a bit of a tour of the house and grounds beyond the confines of the club. ‘Whereabouts are you living?’ He mentioned a village on the edge of town with one foot in the countryside. ‘And how’s your wife taking to it all?’

‘Gardening. She, has become the world’s most enthusiastic gardener. Constant expeditions to your garden centre.’

‘Not really your scene?’

‘No. I’m the townie, feeling a bit like a fish out of water to be honest.’

‘But you’re the more sociable one?’

‘Oh, I’ll adjust. Just don’t ask me to do the digging and weeding.’

‘You should write your memoirs.’

‘Not the noblest of professions. And what I like to recall, well its all terribly out of date now.’

‘You could write a blog, about a townie trying to adjust to life in the country.’

‘I can’t think who’d be interested!’

‘Actually, it’s quite a controversial area, you should try reading my aunt’s magazine, wealthy townies importing their values. The eco-minded trampling over traditional agriculture. Charlie writes an occasional column.’

‘Does she? Is there no end to her talents? Where is she by the way, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘On leave. Gone fishing. She and her pals have somehow got on the right side of the Duke of Northumberland’s gillie.’

‘My word!’

‘Is that the sea, that I can, see?’ Walpole asked after we’d wandered on a way.

‘It is indeed. One of the main reasons for remodelling the golf course, hence the new trees. You can also see the sea from the roof again, I won’t take you up there, problems with health and safety, insurance etc.’

‘Oh, I can believe it. You know the only reason Sparkwell senior isn’t a judge is he can’t play golf. No, I don’t quite mean that. But part of the social life of many judges is golf, and it’s hardly compatible with having a compulsion to bring religion into everything.’

‘You never took to the game?’

‘Oh, no! Absolute self-torture, just playing against oneself, no end to it. Mrs Walpole was keen I should play at one time, but then she was far more ambitious than I, to see me progress in the law. Do you suffer from having a partner with ambitions on your behalf?’

‘Only that I should be as much a fitness fanatic as she is!’

‘Ha!’

78: Return of the bookworms

‘What time will Kenneth need to be let in to the Villa?’ I groaned over Boxing Day breakfast at Checkley Manor.

‘I said we would return by noon.’

‘Okay, and your solution to the catering?’

‘It’s all been chilling in the boot of the car since early Christmas Eve. I attempted to absolve myself of all responsibility by going to the posh supermarket and trying to adopt the mind-set of your late Aunt Elisabeth, sir. All charged to the housekeeping card I’m afraid.’

‘Your forgiven.’

‘Take advice from one who has knocked around the world a bit, no good ever comes from staying up until all hours.’ So pronounced Kenneth, when he saw the condition, we were both in.

‘Yes, I don’t mean to pry, but where in the world have you knocked about?’

‘Got as far as Singapore once.’

‘Fascinating.’

‘So, where do we start?’

‘You and I collect two of the old dining chairs from Charlotte’s lair, then we leg it to the top floor, to collect the other four.’

It was as we were coming downstairs that Kenneth paused to admire the garden; ‘You know, apart from going to the bathroom, I was never aloud above stairs during your aunt’s reign, never really had the chance to stand and stare.’

‘I say, that was a bit fierce. Still, you must have lingered surely?’

‘Oh, no. That would never do. Rules were made to be obeyed; however ridiculous they may seem.’

‘Come along in, l must apologise in advance for the seating arrangements.’ I was playing the doorman, Charlie was hiding in the kitchen, whilst Kenneth put the final touches to the reception room. I repeated my mantra of abject inadequacy four times in all. However, upon entering the venue, the distinguished portrait engendered almost universal, positive acclaim. When everyone had settled, I said; ‘So Kenneth, the floor is yours.’

‘Thank you, Anthony. And thank you for allowing me to host, productive though the garden is, we all need something for the long winter evenings. Anthony has agreed to sit-in, I know my book choice is one of his favourites too. Wonderful to see you all, despite the inevitable changes to this room, I do believe Elisabeth’s spirit is to be found throughout the house and garden. Regarding our woes of the last couple of years, I just want to say, friendships must be kept up. Now then, my choice. John Buchan’s, The Thirty-nine Steps, is perhaps our first real thriller, the first British spy novel as we understand them, rather than a novel with spies, if you see what I mean. And a different sort of writing from the procedural crime novel. Written over a century ago and quite un-controversial until the nineteen seventies. Deeply unfashionable now though, for reasons I don’t fully comprehend, it has been a favourite all my life. I’ll say no more for the moment, but take some of your reactions.’

‘I was surprised,’ said the lady who used to work at the library; ‘I’ve seen the movies, the book was nothing like any of them!’

‘Four film versions, and not one of them made a serious attempt to follow the plot.’ I chipped in.

‘There you go, I knew you’d prove useful to have around Anthony.’

‘I read the book as a child,’ said another, ‘I never realised how modern it is, all about psychology and hiding in plain sight. Rather than deal with that, the moviemakers go for the “master of disguise” thing.’

‘They don’t confront the problems of the hunter and the hunted either, just lay on more stunts.’ Said a third.

‘How did you first come upon the book Anthony? You’re the youngest here!’

‘Er, wet lunchtimes at school, spent in the library. I consumed all five of the books in the series in the end. I rather took them all at face value. I saw the films of the first book and was greatly disappointed. I soon learnt I wasn’t meant to like the books. I also learnt to be on the lookout for terms like “abridged” and “unabridged”. Over the years I confess to becoming rather angry at accusations of anti-Semitism, of critics saying the male friendship was really homosexuality, that the books must be bad or racist because they were pro-empire. But to me, he caught my imagination with his realism, strange as that might seem, no one wrote better about being outside, on one’s own in a landscape. The narrator, stroke hero, if you will, is great at observation of the physical world and then greatly shocked to discover that the ability to hide in a physical landscape is so undermined by the invention of aircraft. He’s also very aware of how you can convince others by playing a part, of truly acting a role. But then suddenly all that is undermined as well, when he realises his own blind spots. The things he takes for granted. The enemy is succeeding, not by disguise, but by fitting-in with the social landscape, by playing the ordinary Englishmen.’

I was just wondering how long I should go on for, when the door suddenly flew open, there was a rattle of china, and Sparkwell appeared, appropriately uniformed, propelling the aunt’s old tea trolley before her; ‘Your comestibles, ladies and gentlemen.’

‘Oh, I say! You have done us proud Charlie!’ Exclaimed Kenneth.

‘Cucumber sandwiches and ham sandwiches, followed by Black Forest gateaux and English trifle with custard and whipped cream. Whose first for tea?’

‘I think I’m going to die of nostalgia.’ I gasped.

Proceedings, having ground to a halt for a good twenty minutes, got underway again when Kenneth turned and declared; ‘The accusation of anti-Semitism was something of a red herring, I’m sure you’d agree Anthony?’

‘Oh, absolutely. Only really sustainable if you don’t get beyond the first half dozen pages. As you’ll all now, know, an American character, who gets killed a couple of pages later, tells a story alleging the involvement of Jewish financiers in a conspiracy, the narrator is sceptical at the time, later the story is revealed to be complete nonsense. But is was a realistic view to give to a character at that time, the particular conspiracy theory existed in this country, and you could find anti-Jewish feeling throughout Europe and North America. So too, people’s real understanding of male friendship, companionship in arms in wartime. It’s been well said, soldiers don’t fight for their country or their generals, but to protect the men around them.’

‘A better accusation would be to say he was anti-homosexual, but then so were most straight people at the time. Do we think he was racist too?’

‘There is a kind of assumed superiority, Africans are routinely called negro, occasionally the other “n-word” is used by someone, it’s rather taken for granted that the empire is a good thing. All of which is an accurate reflection of society at the time.’

‘But what about real life attitudes to the Germans? And what of spies?’ Someone said.  

‘Of course, the novel,’ asserted Kenneth, ‘written in nineteen fourteen after the outbreak of war, and published the following year, has a context; MI6 was only created in nineteen hundred and nine, and the Official Secrets Act was greatly strengthened in nineteen eleven. Anti-German feeling, stoked by the popular press, had only come to the fore, when people realised the size of their navy, and that Britannia might be threatened at sea. But spy mania was rife, yet throughout the war only a handful of German spies were identified, something else Buchan got right.’

‘What a mine of information you are Kenneth.’ I responded.

How long the back and forth might have continued, who knows? But at this point Charlie reappeared and began clearing away tea. She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; ‘Hurrah, for Harry, England and St. George!’ From then on, the conversation, as it always did, drifted towards gossip and the state of the world today.

After they were all gone, Charlotte asked; ‘What do we do now?’

‘Clear up. Get back to the proper business of the day.’

‘Which is?’

‘Discovering the true nature of the taste buds of the dining committee, of course!’

End of season six.

71: The speech

Charlotte stood over my right shoulder, reading her tablet. ‘I don’t get it. None of this makes sense.’

‘Well, you know Rory...’

‘Yes, I get why he’d need a speech written for him.’

‘Not written, spoken, foretold if you like, at a time when he was highly suggestable.’

‘Yes. I get why words like these might be spoken by a right-wing MP. I just don’t see why he should go up against the PM. He’ll just draw attention to himself, I mean if anyone challenges him, he’ll fall apart in five seconds.’

‘Ah, but he’s under pressure to get on, from you know who.’

‘But if the PM prompted you, to get Rory to attack him, Rory won’t be going anywhere.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘So, what is the plan?’

‘Well Buffy just thinks it’s better PR to be seen to be pressured by others into doing the right thing, than suggesting it himself. Odd I know, something about the parliamentary party asserting itself, feeling it is really in charge, which of course it’s not.’

‘I can’t pretend to get all that, but what’s in it for us?’

‘Favoured status for the Park, a cooperative - if not particularly friendly - Chief Constable. All sorts of things that oil the wheels.’

‘Some people will notice these are not Rory’s words, and some of this is a blatant give away, “I won my seat by taking on the retired commissars of the metropolitan left who litter the English Riviera”. Quite a few people know that’s the sort of thing you’d say when taking the piss! And what of; “For you can only put the Great back into Great Britain, tackle the mountain of debt, and make us a going concern again with high and sustained economic growth. The Prime Minister has already spent all we can afford on the pandemic and stimulus packages for the North, the so-called Red Wall. The rest must come from becoming a low tax, low spend economy again. Yet as traditionalists it is our duty to maintain the military, the police and our security forces. Now the PM may not permit the word austerity to pass his lips, in this he is correct, for shaving budgets here and there for a few years will never be enough. The only way out is to cut absolutely the bloated and unnecessary state apparatus, the mindless bureaucracy which has grown around us all over the last fifty years. But, unlike entrepreneurial led growth, cutting the state is not a bottom-up process, quite the reverse.” The Beacon doesn’t normally reprint political speeches like this.’

‘Quite!’

‘Now this is just plain silly; “Number Ten must lead by example, the very cabinet table of which we are so proud, only comfortably sits eleven or twelve minsters, plus the Prime Minister himself and the Cabinet Secretary, there to record the minutes. With a reduction in ministries, there would be the chance of real cabinet government, again. Such was the situation the last time this country could call itself great. Now, we have a Cabinet Office employing a staggering eight thousand people.” This is the new Victorians thing I suppose?’

‘Absolutely, sounds a bit mad when Rory says it, but seen in cold print...’

‘And what about; “A Colonial Office of a few hundred administered an empire, now the same number hand out aid we can ill afford, for projects where we never discover whether they worked or not.” Is that true?’

‘It’s what the tabloid press believes to be true.’

‘Blimey, “a policy of intervention in the affairs of others is an outrageous foreign policy, hugely expense and merely encourages antipathy towards the West. I say trade, not aid.” There’s more, “the NHS has become a monster out of control, creating endless demand, as the population gets ever unhealthier. How wrong, Bevan and the men from the ministry were, to believe that the real cost of the NHS would fall over time as less people got ill.” Was that true?’

‘Oh, yes!’

‘I’ve had enough of this; we must get back to the garden.’

‘Is that your considered political position or a practical suggestion?’

‘Shut, up.’

‘Hang-on a second, does he get a mention in the editorial?’

‘Oh, yes. “A rare true-blue speech from the unknown MP who is only recorded as having spoken twice in the House of Commons. Perhaps he should assert himself more often for he goes straight to the heart of issues long championed by this paper.” A ringing endorsement then.’

Later that day I took a call; ‘I have the Prime Minister for you.’

‘Carrie!’

‘He’s using me as a bloody secretary now.’

‘You should get out more.’

‘Tell me about it, darling! It’s all right for him, he’s always out and about. Although, I rather think he wishes I could do a Charlotte and transform myself into a valette, when required.’

There was a sudden pause. Then Buffy came on the line. ‘Anthony! Just to say, marvellous job regarding young Rory, just the right tone, makes me sound like a sober minded judge. Ha! We can take it from here.’

‘But what will become of him?’

‘Well, he can’t very well accept a ministerial job now, after saying all he did about making cutbacks, can he? No, Chair of the parliamentary Whitehall watchdog committee should suit.’

The following week, Prudence approached me at the club. ‘Wasn’t he wonderful Tony? And I’ll let you in on a secret, it was all his own words, I had no involvement at all! I didn’t even see the script. What about that. You never believed it possible he could be his own man. As chair of this committee, he can call anyone to account, any minister, even Buffy himself. He is a force to be reckoned with. Now he’s being talked of as a future leader of the party.’

She seemed proud of her man, in a deeply unfashionable way. Feeling that perhaps life was getting just a tad too easy, I headed for the bar in search of a stiff drink.

‘Tony!’

‘Don! You’re spending a lot of time in this next of the woods, for one who’s meant to be a columnist for our leading national paper.’

‘I’ve been sent by my editor. He said; “You’ve got the connections, go be a reporter, find out about this MP who’s making the headlines.” Hoisted by my own petard. Having built Rory up at your request, now I’m being asked to knock him down.’

‘So, we are forced to ask, from whom does your editor take his orders?’

‘Better not to ask. Rather, why is it, that whenever I ask questions in this place the answers always seem to lead back to you! Or rather, you and your sidekick. Yet it also seems I’m in your debt, I hadn’t realised it was your recommendation that got me in here.’

‘We’re more than happy to have you.’

‘Rory is a chump. You contrived to get him elected, seemingly as a favour to his wife. As a consequence, this place, in which you have a financial stake, becomes a hive of political activity following on from the new MP’s support for the nation’s most notorious politician who in short order becomes the next PM. Now, I can’t write all that up, because it’s all too far fetched even for our readers.’

‘But you can’t go home empty handed. What you need is a nice little human-interest story about the life and loves of a chump, perhaps with a few choice anecdotes from an old school chum.’

‘Let me buy you lunch.’

‘I thought you’d never ask.’

70: The minority rule

‘It doesn’t look right somehow, seeing you driving a vacuum cleaner. Besides, you don’t clean nearly enough. What you end up doing once a fortnight, should be done twice a week!’ So opined Charlie with a raised voice.

‘It may sound incredible, but I did survive until nearly fifty, before you came along.’ I shouted back.

‘That’s actually quite scary to think about. You, without an effective restraining influence.’

I turned off the machine. ‘I don’t suppose you have a candidate for the role of cleaning lady, or home help, or whoever you think, we lack.’

‘No, not yet. Which reminds me we need to pencil-in more fishing leave, if I’m to clock-up the full six weeks before next April.’

‘Do you ever think about diversity Tony?’

‘Not often, but I did notice the other day we defiantly had more butterflies in the garden than I remember from last year.’

‘I didn’t mean that, I meant here in the club.’ So said Cat, as we propped up the bar.

‘Oh, you mean different sorts of humankind. No not really. After all, we’re interested in attracting like-minded people, that’s what clubs do. Besides we’re a club within a private house that happens to be a small employer, we don’t have to worry, do we?’

‘No, I was just wondering if anyone was counting?’

‘Well, apparently you have to use self-reporting, so ask people what they self-identify as. Strikes me that helps no one, forever being asked to label your differences, to self-stigmatise, rather than notice what brings people together.’

‘Don’t get many Blacks!’

‘Well of course not, they have a tendency to be poorer and to live in cities, the ones we do get are all Americans, signed-in as guests of members. Still, plenty of Eastern and Orientals eh! Or is that too much of an imperial reference these days? And certainly, a higher percentage than live in the bay area as a whole.’

‘Well, that’s money and education for you.’

‘So, what brought this on?’

‘Well, we were rather twiddling our thumbs at the last membership committee, only took a few minutes to review the list for any urgent, priority cases, there weren’t any. And no one has died or moved on this month. Got to talking about discrimination and all that. It’s all very well having a policy of ‘people like us’ but are we missing out?’

‘But you’re quite good at spotting, when you’re missing out the kind of people we need. I mean take Charlie, hardly your typical candidate.’

‘Yes, but you must have noticed old boy, how she’s changed. She’s more like one of us, than one of us now!’

‘Bravo to that.’

‘And what about religion?’

‘Ah well, we can’t be faulted there, we have representatives of every contradictory faith imaginable. So much so, that the less identified, the better.’

‘It all makes you think, though. Don’t you think?’

‘Cat, the one really important fact about people like us, who feel we see the world clearly, is we’re a tiny minority, hidden away out of sight of the rest of the world. Now does that make us an elite, or an irrelevance?’

‘Life, doesn’t have a plot, does it Tony.’ Said my lunch companion.

‘No Tuffy. Just a beginning, a middle and an end.’

‘I suppose one must consider oneself to be at the end of the middle.’

‘Or the beginning of the end.’

‘I say, that’s rather, glass half-full.’

‘Ah, but by being pessimistic, I’m always being pleasantly surprised.’

‘Do you ever think about love?’

‘You haven’t asked that question in a while! No, I think about sex, from dawn till dusk.’

‘Good lord!’

‘Now don’t get me wrong. Charlie puts it rather well, talks about love, like joy, having to be remade every day. The point is, as a heterosexual male, I have a sexualised orientation to life, a traditional masculinity if you will, towards everything. So, everything is a flirtation, an attempt at seduction, everything has a sexual component although actual sexual intimacy only occurs periodically. Before I settled down with Charlie, I had the reputation of being a bit of a lunchtime Lothario; so be it. You pay close attention to women you like; you create an atmosphere in which they, either verbally or non-verbally can communicate what they want. Then you give them, whatever they want. Which of course can be anything at all, sexual or otherwise.’

‘But where’s the right and wrong?’

‘There is no set menu Tuffy, just everything, everyone, slowly evolving.’

‘Victoria has led me back to the church, you really should seek a spiritual path.’

‘I have no problem finding spiritual experiences, religion can be fitted-in to evolution easily enough, but you can’t fit evolution into religion.’

‘It’s rhubarb crumble with lashings of custard today!’

‘And your Victoria’s religion allows that does it?’

‘Of course.’

‘How enlightened.’

‘Tony! I want you to meet Harry!’ So said the Don.

‘Henry Walpole, Don says you are the club.’ So said a small rotund male.

‘And I say more than that Harry; he is the spa, the conference centre and the Park. And, via the Arlington Trust, one of the most significant landowners in this part of the world.’

‘You flatter me Don.’

‘Only one thing holds him back from total domination - and that’s his better half.’

‘Ah, now that I do understand, my wife has recently retired me to the countryside, hence my desire to find somewhere to hole-up. This is all very pleasant I must say.’

‘Well, once you’ve got your face known, you must apply for membership.’

‘Harry, is not without reputation Tony, he has featured in many a crime story in our pages. As a legal eagle of course.’

‘Defence barrister, man and boy, alas now put out to grass.’

‘Tony here, let me tell you, was responsible for recovering the Crimean gold.’

‘Ah! Therefore, the better half Don mentioned, is in fact the Valette, also a feature of The Beacon?’

‘She gets around our Charlie.’

‘I look forward to making her acquaintance.’

‘She’s known to most as Sparkwell.’ I added.

‘Not by any chance related to a certain god-bothering gentlemen who it’s been my displeasure to encounter around the law courts by any chance?’

‘Daughter.’

‘Then I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. And if she ever needs legal representation, I’m her man.’

‘We’ll bare that in mind.’

‘Does the name Henry Walpole mean anything to you?’

‘I’ve never met him. Father was always moaning about him.’

‘What is he?’

‘Defending barrister, must be pretty ancient now. A thorn in father’s side, forever getting people off. A bit of a rascal.’

‘How so?’

‘Well, using underhand methods, like not taking the police’s word as gospel, but doing his own investigating, turning up new evidence and surprise witnesses.’

‘Sounds like a resourceful chap.’

‘Oh my god! He’s turned up at the club?’

‘The Don had him in tow.’

‘That figures. Had some remarkable successes in scandalous cases. You and Cat had better watch out, he’ll spot your machinations.’

‘Really. He offered his services to you, the second he found out who you were.’

‘My enemy’s enemy is my friend.’

‘Your strategic thinking is coming on by leaps and bounds.’

‘Rory! Long time no see, Charlie mentioned she was scheduled to give you a good pummelling. Come, let us sit by the fire.’

‘You know, the thing about Charlotte is, one always feels so much better about the rest of the world after a treatment. Funny that, almost benevolent.’

‘Well, that’s good, for an MP, what?’

‘Yes, you know if it weren’t for Prudence, I could happily spend my entire career on the backbenches.’

‘Becoming ambitious on your behalf, again, is she?’

‘Yes. Oh Tony! The problem is I’ve no idea how these chaps go about ministerial advancement.’

‘Well, surely they get themselves noticed, make grand speeches championing the issues of the day.’

‘But what are the issues?’

‘Well I would have thought the important one was obvious, the government has spent ten years worth of income, in a little over two years!’

‘Oh, yes, I suppose.’

‘Now then let’s stare into the fire, and see if we can’t foretell your future.’