Tom Sharpe - Blott on the Landscape

Mr Puckerington didn’t but he had a shrewd idea that lurking behind Sir Giles’ benevolent concern there was financial advantage. Lady Maud shared his suspicion. Ever since the Enquiry there had been something strange about Giles’s manner, an air of expectation and suppressed excitement about him which she found disturbing. Several times she had noticed him looking at her with a smile on his face and when Sir Giles smiled it usually meant that something unpleasant was about to happen. What it was she couldn’t imagine and since she took no interest in politics the likely consequences of Mr Puckerington’s resignation escaped her. Hoskins was understandably more informed. He realized at once why Sir Giles had agreed so readily to the Ottertown route. “Brilliant,” he told him when he saw him at the Golf Club. Sir Giles looked mystified.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had no idea the poor fellow was so ill. A great loss to the party.”

“My eye and Betty Martin,” said Hoskins.

“I’d rather have your Bessie Williams myself,” Sir Giles said, relaxing a little. “I trust she is keeping well?”

“Very well. She and her husband took a holiday in Majorca I believe.”

“Sensible of them,” Sir Giles said. “So our young friend Dundridge must be a little puzzled by now. No harm in keeping him hanging in the wind, as someone once put it.”

“He’s probably blown that money you gave him.”

“I gave him?” said Sir Giles who preferred not to let his right hand know what his left was doing.

“Say no more,” said Hoskins. “I’ll tell you one thing though. He’s lost all interest in your wife.”

Sir Giles sighed. “Such a pity,” he said. “There was a time when I entertained the hope that he would… One can’t expect miracles. Still, it was a nice thought.”

“He’s got it in for her now, anyway. Hates her guts.”

“I wonder why,” said Sir Giles thoughtfully. “Ah well, it happens to us all in the end. Still, it couldn’t have come at a better time.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Hoskins. “He’s already sent three memoranda to the Ministry asking for the motorway to be re-routed through the Gorge.”

“Quite the little weathercock, isn’t he? I trust you tried to dissuade him.”

“Every time. Every time.”

“But not too hard, eh?”

Hoskins smiled. “I try to keep an open mind on the matter.”

“Very wise of you,” said Sir Giles. “No point in getting yourself involved. Well, things seem to be moving.”

Things certainly were. In London Francis Puckerington’s resignation had immediate repercussions.

“Seventy-five council houses due for demolition in a constituency with a bye-election pending?” said the Prime Minister. “And what did you say his last majority was?”

“Forty-five,” said the Chief Whip. “A marginal seat.”

“Marginal be damned. It’s lost.”

“It does rather look that way,” the Chief Whip agreed. “Of course if the motorway could be re-routed…”

The Prime Minister reached for the phone.

Ten minutes later Mr Rees sent for Mr Joynson.

“Done it,” he said beaming delightedly.

“Done what?”

“Pulled the fat out of the fire. The Ottertown scheme is dead and buried. The M101 is going ahead through the Cleene Gorge.”

“Oh, that is good news,” said Mr Joynson. “How on earth did you do it?”

“Just a question of patience and gentle persuasion. Ministers may come and ministers may go but in the end they do tend to see the errors of their ways.”

“I suppose this means you’ll be recalling Dundridge,” said Mr Joynson, who was inclined to look on the dark side of things.

“Not on your Nelly,” said Mr Rees, “Dundridge is coping very well. I look forward to his perpetual absence.”

Dundridge received the news with mixed emotions. On the one hand here was his golden opportunity to teach that bitch Lady Maud a lesson. On the other the knowledge that he had accepted a bribe from Sir Giles bothered him. He looked forward to Lady Maud’s misery when she learnt that Handyman Hall was going to be demolished after all but he didn’t relish the thought of her husband’s reaction. He need not have worried. Sir Giles, anxious to be out of the way when the storm broke, had taken the precaution of being tied up in London in advance of the announcement. In any case Hoskins was reassuring.

“You don’t have to worry about Giles,” he told Dundridge. “It’s Maud who’ll be out for blood.”

Dundridge knew exactly what he meant. “If she calls I’m not in,” he told the girl on the switchboard. “Remember that. I am never in to Lady Maud.”

While Hoskins concentrated on the actual details of the new route and arranged for the posting of advance notices of compulsory purchase, Dundridge spent much of his time on field work, which meant in fact sitting in his flat and not answering the telephone. To occupy his mind and to lend some sort of credence to his title of Controller Motorways Midlands, he set about devising a strategy for dealing with the campaign to stop construction which he was convinced Lady Maud would initiate.

“Surprise is of the essence,” he explained to Hoskins.

“She’s had that already,” Hoskins pointed out. He had in his time supervised the eviction of too many obstinate householders to be daunted by the threat of Lady Maud, and besides he was relying on Sir Giles to undermine her efforts. “She’s not going to give us any trouble. You’ll see. When it comes to the push she’ll go. They all do. It’s the law.” Dundridge wasn’t convinced. From his personal experience he knew how little the law meant to Lady Maud.

“The thing is to move quickly,” he explained.

“Move quickly?” said Hoskins. “You can’t move quickly when you’re building a motorway. It’s a slow process.”

Dundridge waved his objections aside. “We must hit at key objectives. Seize the commanding heights. Maintain the initiative,” he said grandly.

Hoskins looked at him doubtfully. He wasn’t used to this sort of military language. “Look, old boy, I know how you feel and all that but…”

“You don’t,” said Dundridge vehemently.

“But what I was going to say was that there’s no need to go in for anything complicated. Just let things take their natural course and you’ll find people will get used to the idea. It’s amazing how adaptable people are.”

“That’s precisely what’s worrying me,” said Dundridge. “Now then the essence of my plan is to make random sorties.”

“Random sorties?” said Hoskins. “What on earth with?”

“Bulldozers,” said Dundridge and spread out a map of the district.

“Bulldozers? You can’t have bulldozers roaming the countryside making random sorties,” said Hoskins, now thoroughly alarmed. “What the hell are they going to randomly sort?”

“Vital areas of control,” said Dundridge, “lines of communication. Bridgeheads.”

“Bridgeheads? But -”

“As I see it,” Dundridge continued implacably, “the main centre of resistance is going to be here.” He pointed to the Cleene Gorge. “Strategically this is the vital area. Seize that and we’ve won.”

“Seize it? You can’t suddenly go in and seize the Cleene Gorge!” shouted Hoskins. “The motorway has to proceed by deliberate stages. Contractors work according to a schedule and we have to keep to that.”

“That is precisely the mistake you’re making,” said Dundridge. “Our tactics must be to alter the schedule just when the enemy least expects it.”

“But that’s impossible,” Hoskins insisted. “You can’t go about knocking people’s houses down without giving them fair warning.”