4. Old Friends

Pune, Maharashtra – D. treating a valuable bull elephant belonging to the Maharajah of Ranjipur. Apparently it was traumatised by an accident involving a child while on loan to London Zoo. D. says just like horse whispering but on step ladders. Bisous, Maman.

(3g5t Antalya)

As usual, at the start of the holidays, Dunstable was working his way through a mental to do list. In his mind tasks and activities were neatly classified and colour coded into chores or cheering; people or paper; must or mañana. He had the ability to hold all this in his head like some 4 dimensional Rubik’s Cube, and to dynamically sort and resort in response to changing circumstances and priorities. He was also disciplined and wise enough to strike a reasonably healthy balance between the things that were enjoyable and those that were less pleasing but necessary.

Right now he was embarked on a mission that he always anticipated with pleasure and in which he was rarely if ever disappointed. Today, that pleasure was enhanced by the fact that Toddington had allowed him the chance to give the 14/28 engine of the freshly washed and waxed Oxford bullnose a decent hammering along the better A roads of the county as he sped to his rencontre with one of his oldest and best friends, the Duchess of Membury.

The Duchess was the daughter-in-law of the first Duke of Membury, one of the most influential statesmen of his generation. The confidante of kings, queens and prime ministers, the extensive estate on the Gloucestershire-Wiltshire border was just reward for services to his country. His only son, the Duchess’s late husband, was no politician, yet he was no less a power and influence in his own chosen fields of horticulture, botany and market gardening. His published works on agronomy, plant and crop development were required reading at agricultural colleges worldwide. The literal growth and development of the Membury estates were his life’s work and legacy. And though he moved in much the same social circles as his father, it was advice on managing their land, rather than THE land, for which his company was sought.

The Duchess had been a renowned beauty and darling of the town, country and international set, adding a sparkle to the scene from Belgravia to Bohemia; from Chippenham to Chelsea and to the casinos and cocktail lounges of the Cote d’Azur. Dunstable was always touched whenever he saw her by her elegance and grace; her delicately sculpted features and her slender figure. Though she must by now be in her late 70’s she still turned heads wherever she went. In spite of her vast experience of people and situations at all levels of society and business, she still had the charming reticence and apparent lack of self-confidence of a young person just setting out.

The Duchess had been a school friend of Dunstable’s maternal grandmother and Godmother to Dilly. The Duke and Duchess had had no children of their own and so she had taken a special interest in Dunstable – almost from the time of his conception – as if he were her own grandson.

On this occasion Dunstable was upset to find the Duchess in some distress and quite distracted. Tactfully he set about trying to get to the root of it.

They took tea in the conservatory, surrounded by dense foliage and the trailing limbs of exotic plants which Dunstable felt might jump him at any moment. 

It transpired the Duchess had been in correspondence with the Ministry of Transport in an attempt to secure the return of a parcel of estate land which had been appropriated by the military during the war for some sort of logistical purpose – though the Duchess said it did not ever appear to have been used. The MOT had replied that the land was now in the possession of company of developers who had secured the contract to build and run a substantial tranche of the government’s proposed new network of high speed motor routes. The company was owned by the Parks brothers. The Duchess had written to them repeating her request, asking if they could meet and making the observation that the relatively small tract of land still did not appear to be being used. She had received, by return, and this is what had upset her, what could only be described as a chillingly menacing letter from a Birmingham based solicitor representing the Parks. Dunstable could see tears welling up in the Duchess’s eyes as she held out the letter for him to see. It was written in a cold and clinical legalese and though it contained no explicit threat it was quite clear that some action would be taken against the Duchess and her business interests if she were to pursue her claim to the land.

The Duchess explained that this part of the estate had been used by her husband to develop a particular variety of strawberry and that it seemed that they flourished especially well in the soil of the south facing slopes of that piece of land. He had produced this strain – which he had called the Camino Real – to celebrate the silver jubilee of King George and Queen Mary, close friends of his father’s. The strawberries had become a great favourite of the Queen and a small supply had been delivered regularly to her from the estate each season until her passing. The strawberries had a distinctive flavour, light but with a little hint of lemon and passion fruit. The Duchess had cherished the idea for a number of years of reproducing the fruit. She was sure the taste would rekindle so many happy memories of people and past occasions. The area of land she wished to retrieve was only a part of that which had been requisitioned and she could see that it was still not being used.

Dunstable reassured the Duchess in soothing tones. He was sure the Parks were reasonable men and that if someone could only explain to them what she wanted they would return the land. Inwardly though he was not so sure. He had heard of the Parks brothers – Hilton and Hopwood – from Inspector Frankley. They were a couple of Black Country wide boys and had long been suspected of being at the heart of a Midlands crime syndicate. Yet he was determined to try for his friend, surely the MOT could be persuaded to support her request. As he mulled things over on the drive home – the reasonableness of the request, the side stepping of the MOT, the tone of the solicitor - he became curious as to why the land had not been returned after the war. Surely that would have been the norm for commandeered property?

But before he could press the matter further he had another enjoyable service to perform, entertaining his two main accomplices from school for a couple of days of fun and games at Cahuenga.