106: Summer camp

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

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

‘No!’

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

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

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

‘Knock-it off.’

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

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

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

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

‘No.’

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

‘You’re mad, the whole lot of you.’

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

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

‘Cinderella.’

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

‘Worse than that.’

‘How come?’

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

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

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

Cut to the Abbey.

‘Here comes Red Beard!’ She declared.

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

‘Now you’re getting it.’

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

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

‘Perhaps you should phone your mother.’

‘I’m staying well out of it.’

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

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

‘They do these things rather well at Marlborough.’

‘What?’

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

‘How would you know?’

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

‘Concert tomorrow, street parties Monday...’

‘Less than the funeral then?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Who wants to know Ken?’

‘Merely idle curiosity.’

‘Your curiosity is never idle.’

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh, no.’

‘Won’t do at all.’

‘Tasteless, and all, limp.’

‘Real men don’t eat quiche.’

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

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

105: Pictures at an exhibition

I was sat in Lady Victoria’s executive chair in the bowels of the New Realist Gallery, with just the gentle hum of her dehumidifier for company, watching the activity above via her security screen. The system had recently been installed by the ever-reliable Fin Heptonstall, who naturally favoured the software used by the Trust. I could have watched it all from home, but that would have been cheating, besides I might want to make a timely intervention. Vic used to claim that you could tell by the intensity of the sound coming from her conditioning device just where Tuffy had got to in his daily round of adjusting windows, opening and closing the street doors and especially when he was out the back by the bins. Now with the new cameras, all was on show, all the time.

It was the opening day of the grand travelling exhibition of Steam West’s plans for the future of the county’s heritage. These days my fixed point of reference for understanding any social encounter is Charlie. Today she was low key, as was I, strictly one of the backroom boys. But it was her social orientation that cued my attention. I adjusted one of the cameras slightly and saw the object of her curiosity. It was Chief Constable Wainwright, who had clearly found a dead spot in security. She was adopting a power pose, but she didn’t seem to exude the quiet confidence that’s meant to go with it. Her self-hugging, folded arms practically crushing her hat. She was dressed, as usual, in the baggy white shirt and black trousers version of her uniform. Not having been the organiser of the event I had no idea whether she was here by invitation or not. Still, we’d not crossed swords for a while so I decided to have a word, or two.

‘This is a nightmare.’ She declared.

‘Oh, I don’t know, seems quite a convivial gathering.’

‘I meant this plan, a congestion nightmare.’

‘Well, only during various phases of construction, par for the course surely?’

‘Turning even more of the country into a heritage theme park.’

I moved a fraction closer and adopted a more confidential tone; ‘You know you’re not at all like other senior officers I’ve met, not that I’ve met that many you understand. They’d have turned-up much more formally attired to a do such as this.’

‘Men you mean.’

‘Oh, indeed. Edoardo, my tailor don’t you know, often tells of how ranking officers used to creep into his premises asking for alterations to their uniforms, for the more distinguished look.’

‘Vanity.’

‘No doubt. But, easier to adopt the commanding attitude if one is particularly smartly turned out on parade, one would think. And, though it’s hardly my place to say, it is rather obvious from your gait that you have a tight, trim figure below the crumpled...’

‘Shut it! Your Charlotte has been watching since you crept over. My men, have always taken it for granted, I’m gay.’

‘Oh! Right. And you think that helps with crowd control. But surely if you had a fully tailored uniform with traditional skirt, the right heals, and were prepared to flirt in both a nice and nasty way, that would be even more effective at keeping the zoo in order. And more authentic.’

‘Is this all you?’ She said, accusatively changing the subject. ‘Your Trust is just listed as one of seven partners in the consortium. It would be just like you to be the organising brain at the centre of this spider’s web of intrigue.’

‘Better to think of my role as, well a facilitator, helping to make what others want, happen!’

‘This, influence you seem to have over everyone, how does it work?’

‘Ah! The soft power thing. Well. That would be telling.’

‘I was approached by a very senior officer at an association meeting the other day, he said he wanted to “clarify” - that was the word he used - why I’d been turned down for the last few posts I’d applied for. He claimed my work in the peninsula was vital to London, almost as if we were some sort of adjunct to where the action is. I’m supposed to be keeping a lid on all sorts of things.’

‘Top bureaucrats do have a terribly obscure way of talking about things.’

‘And still, despite the Head Boy taking over, ever more files featuring your name, land on my desk.’

‘I suppose, being a loyal subject of the Crown, arouses deep suspicion these days...’

‘What’s this?’ She said pointing to some imaginative architect’s drawings.

‘Ah! Yes, in order to reinstate the full forecourt at the Abbey station we’ve had to purchase the short stretch of street adjacent to it.’

‘But...’

‘Yes, your eyes do not deceive you, within a few months the Railway Arms will have reverted to being a traditional pub, the original greasy spoon cafe will re-emerge to complement the eventually revived refreshment rooms at the station, and the old garage will miraculously re-appear again - with a genuine pre-war petrol pump.’

‘But this is all obstructing the pavement!’

‘Which is an illusion, the current wide pavement is mainly made up of land owned by the properties. That’s how we out-smart planning regulations.’

‘And just where do you think you’ll find such a petrol pump in this day and age?’

‘We already have it. It’s been in Jack’s lock-up for years.’

‘What! Right. Now you tell me, right now, where this lock-up is, my team have been hunting for it forever. We have strong reason to believe...’

‘You don’t wanna know.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, it would only cause embarrassment.’

‘Oh dear, how sad, never mind. Give!’

‘I meant to you. Jack’s been expecting you. He has the documents to hand; he can prove nothing is knocked-off.’

‘How come you’ve got these GWR insignia everywhere, not even the current operator can use them!’

‘Because every one is an enlargement from old photos that we own. We bought the publisher who bought out the previous publisher who spent all that time acquiring old photographic collections. They used to operate from part of the old maintenance depot across the way.’

‘Wait a minute, I’m beginning to see this now. This isn’t about old steam trains, they’re just a sort of “loss leader”. This is an old fashioned land grab. Old buildings for restoration, to create prestige buildings for high rents and expensive leases. What if the government holds out, or the unions won’t budge?’

‘We just keep on coming. I doubt they realise yet that we already rent the upper storeys of the Abbey station building, company HQ as it happens, although no one ever goes there, we’ve already got “Station House” on our letterhead.’

‘Someone will challenge you, I will, if I can find a legitimate reason.’

‘We have our defences set.’

‘What?’

‘A ghost from the past. Your old sparring partner, Henry “never plead guilty” Walpole is already on our team.’

‘Oh, my god!’

At which point Charlie wandered over; ‘Morning ma’am.’

‘Sparkwell.’

‘Is he behaving himself?’

‘He just tried to pick me up!’

‘Indeed. I usually find he has ulterior motives on such occasions.’

‘He does? What?’

‘Alas, he’s not taken me into his confidence. But it probably involves misdirection, distraction or disorientation; followed by sleight of hand, or you, simply not noticing anything he doesn’t want you to.’ Charlie had been looking around the room in a suspicious manner as she said all this.

‘I see. Excuse me a moment, I must take a closer look at those panels over there.’

When Wainwright was out of earshot, I said; ‘You really shouldn’t.’

‘I’ve spent far too long following you around, not to!’

‘So, what have you observed this morning Watson?’

‘I’ve been chatting to E. Bloomfield-Jones, founder and managing director of Bloomfield-Jones Consulting, the consortium’s PR company.’

‘Ah! I’ve not had the pleasure.’

‘I’ll tell you something funny, she’s a woman too.’

‘Good lord.’

‘And you might well have had the pleasure, she was a contemporary of Lady Victoria’s at St. Hilda’s, an ex-dancing partner perhaps?’

‘I’d better make efforts to find out!’

Author's note to book two

This blog is fiction. Written in Word (as in Microsoft) published on Google. The views and opinions expressed belong only to the characters, and the narrator is not the author. To all you human readers, this is of course blindingly obvious. Not so, to emergent AI.

It is also written in English, English; by an Englishman. Furthermore, by a now middle class accented Englishman but who first learnt to speak, and begin to read and write a little, between Newcastle and the Northumberland coast! With a Yorkshireman for a father and a mother from Kent.

It was when my Facebook newsfeed started delivering promotions for posh country house hotels, and even country house lets, that I first got suspicious. Now, in the last year or so, I’ve become convinced the bots read my writing in draft! Well, I know you know, how crazy our notes and abbreviations can become. I’m a writer, I edit.

Ultimately what AI is trying to do is not just trawl and collate from text, images and video, but predict from them. But that’s all they’ve got to go on, plus odd bits of metadata about time and place. And in that ambition, their human designers are deluded, for what humans do well is short-term anticipation. The brain regulates a body with complex metabolic needs but at the same time is collecting and processing data from all our five senses. And in so far as we reality test, we pick up feedback from other brains constantly, one short term ‘prediction’ is forever being replaced by another.

Anyway, that’s all by way of explanation for the benefit of the bots, I’m more interested in the drones! Or rather the Drones Club as featured in Wodehouse’s Jeeves stories (‘Bertie you are a drone, an anti-social animal’ says Aunt Agatha at some point, or words to that effect.) To my mind there are two sorts of Wodehouse readers. One, enjoys the stories as an amusing distraction from their real lives, an escape to a past world that never really existed. I imagine these have been the vast majority of readers down the years. Then, there are the rarer sort, in which I include myself, who imbibed these stories whilst still children and imaged that adult life could be like that!

We were ‘got at’ by the text, we started to look at the grown-up world around us through its eyes. As we grew to maturity, we saw that there was a great deal of social commentary in the stories. Beyond the more obvious ‘battle of the sexes’ and the author’s attack on British fascism, all human vanity and conceit were being lampooned. The seven deadly sins, well represented. But on a deeper level Wodehouse’s stories primed us to notice the essential absurdity of real life which could only really be made tolerable by seeing it as a source of amusement, rather than take the potentially disastrous step of trying to reform it.

I was struck whilst reading The Churchill Factor, written by our famously socially liberal, once and future Prime Minister Boris Johnson, by the occasionally explicit references to Wodehouse. An unlikely juxtaposition of subject matter one might think. But on a more considered second reading of selected parts of the text, I realised the author’s whole style of writing, thinking, was filtered by a conception of reality as a Wodehousian world. Some years earlier I’d noticed whilst watching his episode of the documentary series Who Do You Think You Are, that he’d slipped in a quick aside to camera; ‘I won a scripture knowledge prize once.’

Equally, in a recent interview, the socially conservative politician, and recent cabinet member, Jacob Rees-Mogg was asked what he was currently reading. He replied by listing a number of learned tomes about the nineteenth century, then added; ‘Of course, I always have a Wodehouse on the go.’ Both would undoubtedly be members of any modern Drones Club.

But just in case you get the wrong idea, whilst it is perhaps forgivable to imitate the style of past writers, Conan Doyle, Wodehouse and more lately, the late great John Mortimer - who incidentally was quite explicit about his debt to Conan Doyle and Wodehouse - it doesn’t work if your characters are too close to real people. That’s a kind of cheating, of the reader. You want your audience to think, I can see where that particular characteristic came from, rather than the whole character. Besides, I think my prime minister owes more to Widmerpool, understand that reference and you’ll understand me!

104: Castles and Kings

‘I went by Magdalen Place the other day, well, walked through that little park in front of it.’

‘Actually, it’s not a park, simply a common front garden for the Place, just like we have here.’

‘But everyone uses it, I thought it belonged to the council.’

‘You thought that, when it is so well maintained?’

‘So that’s it. That’s why I saw matey’s mate, from the Park, helping put back the railings.’

‘Yep, part of the restoration.’

‘And that’s another thing, why if you’re trying to get an authentic façade, is that corner house having the ground floor converted into a shop?’

‘It’s not a conversion, it’s undoing the previous attempt at restoration.’

‘You mean it used to be a shop?’

‘Well, strictly speaking, it was the business entrance of the old apothecary's house.’

‘As in pharmacy?’

‘Correct.’

‘So why?’

‘Well internally there is still evidence of what it once was.’

‘Okay.’

‘I just thought we could make a feature of it, add to the heritage, as it were.’

‘Since when were you that benevolent?’

‘I’m not, the idea is to put up a notice or plaque, saying, in effect, here was where Agatha Christie learnt to be a poisoner!’

‘She worked there?’

‘Posted there when she was a VAD during the first war. She was being trained-up to work in the hospital dispensary.’

‘Blimey.’

‘Anyway, shake a leg, here’s the shopping list for this afternoon’s polite tea that we’re laying on for Mr and Mrs Walpole.’

‘You’re giving me a list!’

‘Not only that, it all needs to be purchased from our own garden centre shop.’

‘Cucumber, carrot or date and walnut cake, Earl Grey tea!’

‘Remind me why I’m doing this.’ So said Charlie, bent over the kitchen table and doing her best to produce unfamiliar, thin-cut cucumber sandwiches.

‘Because it is Mrs Walpole who needs to be convinced, that the proposition I shall put to Walpole, is a good idea.’

‘You think he’s under her thumb?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it as strong as that. But I know he wants a reason to get out of the house more, or more precisely, out of the garden!’

‘Sounds familiar.’

As I reached the door to the reception room at three minutes past four precisely, I hung back a moment, skulking if you like, for I realised something remarkable was unfolding before my eyes. Charlie appeared to be adopting, full hostess mode. She was showing various invitations from the mantelpiece to an admiring Mrs Walpole. ‘And these are the photos from the Palace back in the summer.’

‘You’ve never been invited to a garden party have you Walpole?’

‘Nothing so grand for an Old Bailey hack.’

There was more, after just a few more moments; ‘You might find these interesting too, from just a few weeks ago Mrs Walpole.’

‘Oh, do call me Helene.’

‘Simply the strangest of ceremonies, we were invited by Tony’s old friend Alistair.’

‘Take a look Walpole, Charlotte, with the King!’

‘Strange, I don’t remember these from The Beacon?’ Said Harry.

‘The better part of valour is discretion, is it not?’ I said as I entered the arena.

‘Ah! Here cometh Falstaff.’

‘Welcome to our humble abode, one and all.’

‘Anthony, do tell me about this distinguished lady.’ So said Mrs Walpole looking towards the infamous portrait.

‘My late aunt, the former occupant of this address. Painted when she was twenty-five-ish. By a rather famous RA, I was always told.’

‘Please excuse me, I must see to our garden consultant's tea before our own.’ Said Charlie.

‘Oh! Do you hear that Walpole? A garden consultant.’

‘Well, a slight exaggeration, he’s getting on a bit, but an excellent supervisor, very strong on fruits and the possibilities of climate change. We must introduce you some time.’ I said as Charlie departed.

‘We’re most grateful for your garden centre Anthony.’

‘Oh well, you’ll recognise tea when it comes!’

There was pause. ‘Well, this is all very nice, delightful view.’

Helene was running out of steam and Harry had raised an eyebrow more than once, it was time to come clean. ‘I must confess, I have an ulterior motive for inviting the two of you here today.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’re in trouble with the law.’ Was his instant response.

‘Really, Walpole!’

‘On the contrary, we’re out to cause trouble for the law.’

‘Who is this we?’

‘The Trust, and a few business partners, we need your help. More precisely, your voice and skill as a cross examiner.’

‘Ah, well, count me in!’

‘Just a moment Walpole. You must understand Anthony, Walpole is retired.’

‘I’m merely thinking of an occasional, part-time consultancy.’

‘Just what would he be getting into?’

I gave a summary of the project so far, concluding; ‘So you see, we need a legal voice to represent us, wherever. Enquiries of one sort or another. Planning enquiries, public enquiries, parliamentary committees, public meetings, in court, maybe. Someone who understands the audience, whether an ex-judge or local politician or general public, someone who can monitor our own PR, tell us when to back-off, etc.’

‘Planning law is very boring.’ Was his reply.

‘But that’s just it, I have a whole building full of solicitors - plus accountants and estate agents! What I lack is an advocate.’

‘Surprise, surprise.’

‘With a passion for, and interest in, old railways.’

‘You want me sell the romance of steam as well?’

‘Well, it's not so much about Castles and Kings as the need to explain that speed is no longer of the essence, though punctuality and comfort are, that we can do the German-style mobile office train, with more space and a better view for everyone. That we all have time to stand and stare, with the bicycle in the brake van, refreshment rooms at all stations.’

‘I used to love the old station hotels.’ Said Helene.

‘We have two of them, the old Morestead Manor House, and the old Grand at the town station, that’s Gerald, he’s one of our group.’

‘Despite your plans to collaborate with the government, it must still be a massive investment.’ Said Walpole.

‘Well, you’ve heard of the huge fortunes of various online platforms, well the Trust is a minor player in all that. The trick is turning all those zeros on paper into bricks and mortar. I should perhaps add that talks are underway to get the GWR society, with all its collection down to the extra land at the Abbey station.’

‘Walpole’s a member, aren’t you? He used to abandon me on our Sundays!’

‘Well, who’d have thought.’

‘This part-time work, how much would Walpole be paid?’

‘Well, as you might imagine it’s very difficult to estimate how much of the “when and where” would be required, initially at least. I was going to suggest in the first instance that I propose Walpole for membership of the club, on the understanding that we pick up the bill for his first year’s fees at least, plus whatever he runs-up on his account. I can see two advantages to such an arrangement; it would avoid any change to his tax and pension situation, and he could sign you in, any time he liked.’

The rattle of the trolley could be heard. ‘Tea everyone?’ Said Charlie.

It was as they were leaving by the front door, that Walpole hung back a split second, pivoted, held out a hand and speaking just out of earshot of Helene, said; ‘Nicely played sir, nicely played.’

End of season eight.

End of book two.

103: King Coal

‘My noble lord.’

‘Ah! Anthony.’

‘I’m surprised to find you here, shouldn’t you be in Whitehall, fighting off yet another crisis?’

‘Merely a little R and R, to recharge the batteries.’

‘Yes. That’s rather the problem isn’t it, wind and solar energy never arrives when you want it to, batteries can’t hold a full charge for twenty-four hours and the wires are never more than semi-conductors.’

‘Not my responsibility old man, I’m strictly post-Brexit stuff.’

‘But you sit at the cabinet table. You must hear things.’

‘There are usually twenty-five people in that room for a two-hour meeting. That’s less than five minutes each, if you’re lucky.’

‘Do you know anything about transport?’

‘Historically it’s had the highest turnover of ministers of any department. Though, what with the fall, others must be catching up.’

‘As in decline and fall?’

‘So, one must assume.’

‘Lucky you were ennobled then.’

‘Luck had nothing to do with it. Anyway, what’s your interest?’

‘I and some like-minded individuals, have been acquiring former railway land throughout the south of the county for some years now.’

‘Really!’

‘Ever heard of the Fell Mining Corporation?’

‘Heard of them? My dear fellow, my old firm is into them for... Well, a considerable amount. They’re sitting on this nation’s highest quality industrial coal deposits. With money to burn, if you’ll excuse the pun, but with a slight public relations problem.’

‘How would they like to buy-up, lock, stock and barrel, one of our best, but worst run heritage railways?’

‘But you can’t do that, such people are wrapped in various charity, stroke trust, stroke third sector non-profit, non-tax paying, volunteer shareholder schemes - you wouldn’t believe! You’d need the expertise of an... Arlington Trust to get around that one... You know, the reason preserved railways have been in the doldrums of late is that their single greatest expense is steam coal. I say, I’ve always wanted to plan a corporate raid from the bar of a gentleman’s club!’

I ended up buying Frimley lunch and taking him into my confidence over the full extent of what I’d come to think of as the Steam West project. Then I explained that almost everyone assumed the desired avoiding line for the eroding coastal route was the old Southern Railway, and that although we owned three odd bits of land which could be used to delay it, our desired route was the less obvious old GWR line. ‘But really Anthony, that was a single track, much is now enjoyed as footpaths, and it is crossed by a dual carriageway!’

‘But still a cheaper option for the government. At some point, if the motorway is to proceed further west, the current arrangement of dividing into three dual carriageways halfway up a hill, just a mile south, will need to be realigned, involving a heightening of our carriageway, as it were, it would be a simple matter of allowing the new elevation to continue awhile, and let the railway run along the existing road.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned!’

Once that had sunk in, I continued; ‘What we’re proposing as a settlement, is a collaboration, in which we own the infrastructure from the old naval port all the way to Morestead, including the biggest current eyesore en-route, the Abbey Station.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Network Rail and the current operator have been making ever more desperate attempts to clean it up and reduce its size for decades, with every new initiative it just looks worse. The answer of course is to restore it to its former glory. We’ll pay, the town will love it. The best layout was achieved in nineteen twenty-nine, it lasted until the end of steam.’

‘Anthony, the government will never hand over the ownership of a mainline station!’

‘All the land to the south is held by the local authority, worth remembering how they acquired it. It was when it was all a private estate that part of it was sold to the GWR, later the council took over the remainder for their heritage style headquarters, then at the government’s bidding they bought back more and more land from the railway, making the railway accounts look good.’

‘Stop. I think I know where you’re going with this.’

‘Well, there are other ways of considering the proposition. Every night the up and down Night Riviera sleeper passes through, pulled by an old Diesel which gives off more emissions than our computer controlled, oil-fired, mainline steam locos will.’

‘How come?’

‘Well, when the weekly steam hauled Bay Express resumes from platform one at Paddington, it will run non-stop to our great cathedral city on cruise control...’

‘But how does it work?’

‘Like the Swiss Glacier Express. The oil is injected through an atomiser, like a perfume bottle, the flash not only gives instant heat but something like ninety-eight per cent of the oil is burnt off, virtually nothing left to go up the chimney.’

‘I see, I think.’

‘Of course, the royal train is worse, half the size and with an old Diesel at both the front and back, but then old railwaymen and many locals remember it for another reason.’

‘Oh, god.’

‘Yes, how the few remaining miles of the Morestead branch line track has been used as a favourite overnight stop for the luxury train, it’s royal passengers and guests, particularly in the nineteen eighties and early nineties. Not quite at the heart of the Duchy, but...

‘I should warn you, I’m an active member of the Privy Council.’

‘Some photographic evidence even, of the married Prince’s mistress arriving and departing. Ironic really, that he should now wish to see her crowned alongside himself.’

‘I’ve always thought of you as a loyal subject of the Crown, Anthony.’

‘Oh! Indeed. Never more so, but then to coin an old military phrase, one salutes the uniform, not the man.’

A few weeks later I found myself sheltering from the rain, under a canopy, part way along the harbour side. ‘Captain!’

‘Anthony! Not like you to be lurking in the shadows.’

‘Yes, I normally leave that sort of thing to Charlie.’

‘She’s not here I take it?’

‘I’ve not taken her fully into my confidence yet, have you time to walk and talk?’

‘All the time in the world old boy.’

‘I suspect you may be becoming persona non grata with the council, or the harbour authorities at least.’

‘I know. That’s the only downside to the move.’

‘Ever thought of just sailing off to the next bay along, I mean what with your naval connections and the potential of your craft as a training vessel?’

‘I’d have moved some little time ago, were it not for those shits who run the marina there.’

‘The marina company are under new ownership; I’m pleased to report.’

‘Who?’

‘Specifically, the Fell Mining Corporation.’

‘Good lord!’

‘But as part of a new collaboration with my family trust and other prominent local businesses, working title, Steam West.’

‘The marina company operated from the old railway land of the GWR, the locomotive sheds, where the turntable used to be, that meant control of access to the wharf, also once owned by the railway. They posed as a benevolent force, were quiet heavy investors in the preserved railway, but in practice they blocked any attempts at real restoration.’

‘Not anymore.’

‘Now that is something I’d like to see; doubt I’ll live long enough though.’

‘You could play a major role in it.’

‘How?’

‘Do you have any contact with those who command your old alma mater?’

‘My dear fellow, the place is run by the daughters of my contemporaries!’

‘Well, we both know what that’s like.’

‘Er?’

‘You see, the thing is, your priority as I understand it, is that the charity should have an income from the yacht, that might not mean selling her as such, you could bequeath her to the charity, then rent her out permanently, to just the one client.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘Then you could rest easy seeing out your days in the admiral's cabin at The Grange. And, perhaps after cadets or ratings or whatever the terminology is, have learnt to sail coastal waters in a green, traditional way, they might care for a little volunteering at the charity...’

‘You, you... I was going to say you’ve got more front than Magdalen Place, but you’re giving that even more as we speak!’ Then after a long pause whilst staring inland; ‘It was your father who saved your old apartment building, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re a good son, Anthony. Not sure why I should say that, but on-board ship one’s a kind of stand-in for everyone in authority.’

‘Thank you.’

102: Trouble and strife

‘I’ve just had a phone call from Daphne.’ So announced Sparkwell one morning.

‘What, a real conversation?’

‘Yes. She’s invited herself for morning coffee.’

‘Well, that’s okay. Any idea what she wants?’

‘No. I think she just wants you to do your magic thing on her, leave her feeling all’s right with the world.’

‘Probably Barmy acting strangely.’

‘Or she wants to know why Melisa is dropping by so often!’

‘The reason Mel pops in for tea all the time is that we’re on her bus route between college and home, it’s a way of putting off study for an hour or so.’

‘And it’s not home.’

‘True, and I suppose I flatter myself we offer stimulating adult company. But she also seems to have taken a shine to Kenneth for some reason.’

‘He has his charms.’

‘Really?’ I turned around to confront her, but she was gone.

‘Well, Daph, you’re looking effortlessly glamorous as usual.’ I said, walking into the reception room, where she stood idly chatting with Charlie.

‘Didn’t anyone tell you Tony, not to praise a woman in the presence of another?’

‘Oh, indeed. But I have supreme confidence in my own ability in mental gymnastics to get me out of such situations.’

‘Sounds about right.’ So mumbled Charlie with a deadpan delivery.

‘Try me.’ Asserted Daphne.

‘In youth you were taught to be chic, it all started so early you were never really conscious of it, you absorbed it all until it became second nature. Charlie, lacking such advantages has had to consciously learn to be glam later in life, with the help of my tailor Edoardo and his numerous contacts in the world of the well dressed.’

‘So, tell me this Tony, how come my eldest daughter looks forever like something the cat dragged in?’

‘She, doesn’t have to worry about body adornment. She’s fit, natural in her movements, balanced, well coordinated. Not only is she not bothered by how she looks, neither is anybody else. She has other things on her mind.’

‘You can say that again, the other day I found her deep in conversation with her father about whether using a double locked box, was a more secure way of sending a message than any code! She’s taking after her grandfather for goodness’ sake. Then there’s the constant request for driving lessons and a car to go with them. She’s got it into her head we’re rolling in money.’

‘But you are!’

‘But youth shouldn’t have it handed to them on a plate.’

‘But she’s a grafter, when she’s interested in something. Like Barmy and I, her greatest dread is boredom.’

‘You and Barmy may think her exceptional, but I’m damned if I can see it!’

‘Well of course not! I mean it’s not as if she’s got your brain and Barmy’s good looks, is it?’

‘I’ll get the coffee.’ Said Charlie, promptly exiting stage right.

‘Do be seated.’ I said, directing her to the chair opposite my own in front of the old fireplace, the hearth now being discreetly shielded by a kind of embroidered stand thingy, inherited from the aunt.

‘I, I just want a well mannered daughter with all the social graces, it might sound ridiculous, but you know what I mean. As you say, with Charlotte, you’ve given her, polish.’

‘Mel can remember how to behave when required. You only see her when you’re present. You weren’t the same person when you and I were out in public together as you were with your parents.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘How’s Barmy?’

‘Never bloody there! In and out all the time for the best part of a year now, but never stays for more than five minutes.’

‘What’s he working on?’

‘Officially, defence training for the eastern Europeans. But apparently, it’s all been about getting our data on Russian incoming to the lads on the ground, getting them to trust it enough to then risk their necks using our mobile ground to air kit.’

‘Delivering text in such a way, the receiver acts on it within seconds, now that really is up Barmy’s street.’

‘It is?’

‘Oh, yes. And a great success too.’

‘He was toying with the idea of joining the robot dog team, but I put my foot down at that.’

‘Yes, I saw a stray video online, it was brandishing a machine gun and firing in all directions somewhere in the American west.’

‘Apparently the Chinese have perfected the art of deploying it wherever, using a drone; now we’re playing catch-up.’

‘Coffee everyone?’ Said the returning Charlie, rearranging furniture and drawing up her preferred, straight-backed chair.

‘Thank you, Charlotte, Melisa says you’ve been teaching her a bit of yoga, is she any good?’

‘It’s not a sport, Daphne! People come to it in their own way over time, it’s one way into meditation. It always begins and ends with the breath. It is about skill, but more than most skills you not only have to practice every day, you almost have to begin again every day.’

‘Goodness!’

‘That’s why when you see any kind of master, or guru being asked, what’s the secret to this or that, you get those blunt, simple answers about practice, just throwing the question back again.’

‘Find the answer within yourself you mean?’

‘No, that’s what the dumb western talking therapists say. This is physical practice of a set of movements, forget about answers, let go of all thoughts good or bad, just be. Wait. See what you find yourself doing. Watch the breath.’

‘Gosh. And you’ve signed up to all this too, Tony?’

‘There is no goal Daphne, there doesn’t need to be, we may not even know the path we take, let the future be an open horizon.’

‘This is what you two do isn’t it? With the likes of Tuffy, Prudence, the whole bag-wash!’

‘Up the hillside, now tis buried deep; In the next valley glades: What is a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is the music: Do I wake or... Sleep.’

Charlie managed to catch Daphne’s coffee cup as she slumped back in her chair.

After a few moments or so; ‘You remembered, how sweet of you, that day we walked in fields of corn, picnicked by the stile gate. Jolly old Keats.’ Her eyes caught the portrait above my shoulder; ‘Your aunt looks benevolent today. She wasn’t such a bad old stick.’ And after another long pause; ‘It’s that college, one worries.’

‘Of course.’

‘The place is full of all sorts, no one can get out of education before eighteen these days, she could fall-in with anyone.’

‘A natural enough concern.’

‘Goodness knows, I’m no snob, but drugs, gangs, knives... At least in the sixth, one used to be confined most of the time.’

‘And raising hell because of it?’

‘Yes, alright. But appreciating a little freedom, rather than overwhelmed by too much of it. If only she had more friends her own age?’

‘Well, that’s never going to happen, they bore her.’

‘Why did you and Barmy get married, you were together a long time before?’ Asked Charlie out of the blue.

‘Oh! That was just laying the ground work for coming over to our side and bringing assets with him.’

‘Tony seemed to think you might have been introduced by your father?’

‘Really? No. Well not really. Though I suppose it was at one of Daddy’s get togethers that we first met. Gosh, what a thought.’

‘Does your father know Kenneth Murchison?’

‘My dear, everyone knows Kenneth, bit of a ladies man in his day, not in a creepy way you understand, but regarded as a bit of a security risk on account of his numerous shady ladies.’

101: Pro-celebrity spa

‘A text from Mr Mackintosh, sir.’

‘And what does he want?’

‘We’re invited to take morning coffee, this morning, at our old apartment.’

‘Good lord.’

‘He says, he’s had another idea for an annual event.’

‘Well, the second annual Awayday was a roaring success, though I must admit I was sceptical at the time, a guided tour of the old convict colony on the Moor seemed an odd choice, until one realised that one total institution is much like another. The chaps can be awfully sentimental about the old school. So perhaps he deserves a hearing, reply that we’ll be happy to attend.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘Marietta! Long time no see.’

‘How are you sir?’

‘Oh, mustn’t grumble, and your good self?’

‘Jim keeps me young.’

‘Really! Well, that’s good then.’

‘Isn’t it strange about Mr Brinkley?’

‘Well, he always seems a bit strange to me.’

‘I mean having to talk to him all that way away in Spain, and he’s forever emailing documents.’

‘Sign of the times I’m afraid. And Alistair, he’s behaving himself I trust?’

‘Oh yes. But between you and me, he doesn’t quite have your style.’

‘What ho, Charlie, Tony. Come along in.’

‘Morning Cat.’ I’d not been to the apartment in sometime, what was striking was how much of it still remained unchanged from the days of our occupancy. What we’d left behind was still there, and what we’d taken away seemed to have been replaced with remarkably similar items, apart from the cameras and the high tech of course.

Suddenly the door to the treatment room, formerly known as my spare bedroom, er no, I mean Cat’s spare bedroom, was flung open and out breezed the lady from number forty-two. ‘Good morning! Coffee everyone?’

‘Er, thank you.’ I responded.

‘Charlotte?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Thank you, my darling! Isn’t she a wonder?’ Said Cat, as the swing door to the kitchen closed behind her.’

‘Yes. A woman who makes coffee. Truly a wonder.’

‘Tony! You’re just an old cynic. Isn’t he, Charlie?’

‘Indeed, sir.’

‘We’ve just been chatting with the Dragon Concierge, how are things going on that front?’

‘Oh, ask Annabella, she deals with all that side of things.’

‘Cat, why are we here?’

‘I had a notion. An annual knockout golf tournament.’

‘Ah! Correct me if I’m wrong, but such a proposal has been discussed on a number of previous occasions. As I remember, the general consensus has been that since it’s a small club where everyone plays everyone else several times a year, leading to everyone knowing where everyone else stands in the rankings, such a tournament is somewhat superfluous.’

‘Yes, but things have changed since the new improved spa.’

‘Really?’

‘There’s been an influx of new playing members.’

‘Mainly women.’ Added Charlie.

‘Go on.’

‘And somewhat fitter than your average male.’ She continued. ‘Even Ada Armitage is forever asking me to loosen her up so she can improve her swing.’

‘Good god!’

‘We want a genuinely open, mixed tournament.’ She asserted.

‘Have you told him yet?’ Cat said.

‘Told me what?’

‘Well, er, the thing is...’ She hesitated.

‘I’ll tell him! Charlie has been dragged, kicking and screaming, by popular acclaim, into becoming chairperson of the new Sports and Spa Committee.’

‘Excellent! So, what do you need me for?’

‘My idea, to help market the whole thing, is that part of the tournament should be pro-celebrity.’

‘But we don’t have any professionals and we certainly don’t have any celebrities, unless you count Buffy or Charlie here, neither of whom play!’

‘Yes, but Buffy has met everyone. And like many politicians he’s a bit star-struck. We were rather hoping you could see your way to persuading him to head up the organising sub-committee and thereby draw in celebs for the climax of the whole show.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

‘What, just like that, no quid pro quo?’ Charlie interceded again.

‘No. Except, perhaps the proceeds of such an event should go to our favourite charity. And, you must get Fiona working with Buffy, tv rights and all that kind of thing.’

Then the coffee arrived.

After twenty minutes or so of polite coffee conversation and having turned down the offer of a refill - I was after all under the beady eye of Sparkwell - I said; ‘Well, we mustn’t out stay our welcome...’

‘Alistair, darling, you must tell Anthony your news, you can’t let it slide any longer.’

There then occurred one of those emotional moments, where because the initiator adopts the stiff upper lip, you find yourself doing the same; ‘Bad news I’m afraid old man,’ he said, standing up and offering an out-stretched hand; ‘I fear I must resign, as your aide-de-camp.’

‘Oh no, surely not,’ I replied, getting to my feet and accepting his hand; ‘It’s been nigh on forty years, man and boy. What’s happened?’

‘My folks are no longer at the castle. Luckily, they’re together in a care home, but father they say, has only a matter of weeks.’

‘When you see your father next, please convey my thanks in whatever way you can, happy carefree days and all that.’

‘Of course, but you and Charlie must visit, there’ll be the investiture first, then the wedding.’

‘Investiture?’

‘Yes, one doesn’t automatically take on title, the monarch must grant it anew.’

‘Good lord.’

‘Technically, I think on father’s death, the castle reverts, so the ceremony is all about the throne of Scotland walking out of it, and me walking in! We’ll see to it that you both get invites.’

‘All in the heart of England!’

‘Absolutely. Well, we did rather take you over, alas our original ancestral land consists of half a glen, only ever seen by the most intrepid of Munro baggers, I’ve never even been there!’

‘What’s it called?’ Asked Charlie.

‘It’s only ever been known in Gaelic, no one can agree about it’s pronunciation, spelling or meaning, father still gets letters about it.’

‘He’ll be back, sooner than one might suppose.’ I said as we worked our way out of the building.

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Difficult to break the habits of a lifetime, besides the castle has been running itself for years as Cat’s folks have got older.’

‘What I don’t understand is why you accepted the job of getting Buffy onside without demanding your usual pound of flesh.’

‘Simple. It’s because it’s really no kind of job at all. I simply make one short call to Carrie and pass the task on, but take all the credit naturally.’

‘But why would Buffy accept, without you to twist his arm?’

‘Well, it will be coming from Carrie for a start, she I imagine will appeal to his vanity in the first instance, then point out he’ll be in everyone’s good books at the club, but most of all, he’s a politician, he loves to connect...’

By now we were approaching the car, Jim could be seen standing stock still and staring at it, seemingly lost in thought.

‘Oh, my god. That thousand-yard stare again.’ Said Charlie.

‘Jim! Standing in admiration I take it?’

‘It’s not the same one.’

‘No. We have two now, this is the latest edition, more or less.’

‘Four-wheel drive when required, sir?’

‘Yes, as a matter of fact I had my chauffeur here, practice a little discrete off-roading up on the Moor just the other day.’

‘Someone’s been moving the rocks, sir.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘In the garden, sir.’

‘Oh, I see. Any damage, soil collapsed onto the pavement, that sort of thing?’

‘No, but it looks different.’

‘I see, well if it’s all within the garden, then it’s for the residents to sort out, you can stand at ease.’

‘Thank you, sir.’