The Larton Chronicles by James Anson

Author:James Anson [Anson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

For the next three months Robert, half buried in a sea of papers, sorted, wrote, rewrote, condensed, expanded, flew into a tantrum when he found errors, and at least twice a day said it was all too much and he was going to put his head in the oven or drown himself in the Piddle (average depth six inches), he really didn't care which.

Michael, now used to these excesses, mumbled words of comfort, read over extracts and pointed out errors - which was what he was supposed to do but which still got him yelled at -and at the same time was fighting his own battle with the local planning office for his covered school and new tack-room.

"Can't understand it, Robert. They let thingy build that great awful Spanish hacienda on the old Bates farm. How did he get permission? It looks like a Spanish brothel."

"If you mean Crispin Gould's lousy house, he's an MP," said Robert, rewriting a page for the tenth time.

Michael looked up from the Horse and Hound. "Is he? I don't remember voting for him."

"You wouldn't," said Robert. "He represents Drexbury in Birmingham."

"Why the hell doesn't he live there, then," said Michael wrathfully. "Can't stand him.

He wears a bright blue anorak with PEACE on the back."

"Would you like to live in Birmingham?" said Robert. "People have died of old age trying to get off their motorway."

"Maybe I should have a word with Colonel Heaton," said Michael. "After all, he is ours, isn't he? Ask him to put a word in for my covered school, giving employment to the masses and all that."

Robert did his usual speech about the country falling apart, law and order at an all-time low and you are bothering him about a covered school, and yes, it wasn't a bad idea because he'd be at the village hall that week.

He regretted encouraging Michael later, when he had to get his merry partner to bed after a very congenial meeting with Colonel Heaton (another hunting man). In a very short space of time he and Michael had apparently become soul mates and spent some time playing war-games over several drinks at the Brewers.

"Well, you'd have liked him," Michael protested. "He's very keen on conservation."

"Yes," said Robert bitterly. "He's against chemicals on the land in case they upset his pheasants before he can shoot them."

However, permission was granted and Michael set off on horse-buying jaunts and other matters for the Centre, leaving Robert still hard at work. One bright spot was Mr Halliwell's nephew, Mervyn, who turned out to be ideal. After taking him out with the drag hunt, Michael announced he'd, "do fine, Robert. Never blinked an eyelash at Millers Bank."

Robert sighed. Oh, well. Maybe that was how HRH picked her accountant, too.

Near the end of the second month Michael arrived home very late from a successful horse- buying mission to find all the lights still on at 4 a.m.

He put the kettle on, assured the animals this did not mean a super-early

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