Tom Sharpe - Blott on the Landscape

“Ah, good,” said Lady Maud. “Now then, to business. I’ll show you exactly what I want.” They went inside to the billiard room and Lady Maud unrolled a map of the estate, “I am opening a wildlife park,” she explained. “I want a fence extending the entire perimeter of the park. It must be absolutely secure and proof against any sort of animal.”

“But I understood…” the manager began.

“Never mind what you understood,” said Lady Maud. “Just understand that I am opening a wildlife park in three weeks’ time.”

“In three weeks? That’s out of the question.”

Lady Maud rolled up the map. “In that case I shall employ someone else,” she said. “Some enterprising firm that can erect a suitable fence…”

“You won’t get any firm to do it in three weeks,” said the manager. “Not unless you pay a fortune.”

“I am prepared to pay a fortune,” said Lady Maud.

The manager looked at her and rubbed his jaw. “Three weeks?” he said.

“Three weeks,” said Lady Maud.

The manager took out a notebook and made some calculations. “This is simply a rough estimate,” he said finally, “but I would say somewhere in the region of twenty-five thousand pounds.”

“Say thirty and be done with it,” said Lady Maud. “Thirty thousand pounds for the fence to be completed in three weeks from today with a bonus of one thousand a day for every day under three weeks and a penalty clause of two thousand pounds for every day after three weeks.”

The manager gaped at her. “I suppose you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.

“I know precisely what I’m doing, thank you very much,” said Lady Maud. “What is more you will work day and night. You will bring your materials in at night. I don’t want any lorries coming here during the day and you will house your men here. I will provide accommodation. You will see to their bedding and their food. This whole operation must be done in the strictest secrecy.”

“If you don’t mind,” said the manager and sat down in a chair. Lady Maud sat down opposite him.

“Well?”

“I don’t know,” said the manager. “It can be done…”

“It will be,” Lady Maud assured him. “Either by you or someone else.”

“You realize that if we were to finish the job in a fortnight the cost would have risen to thirty-seven thousand pounds.”

“And I should be delighted. And if you can finish in a week I shall be happy to pay forty-two thousand pounds,” she said. “Are we agreed?” The manager nodded. “Right, in that case I shall make out a cheque to you for ten thousand now and two post-dated cheques for the same amount. I trust that will be a sufficient earnest of my good faith.” She went through to the study and wrote out the cheques. “I shall expect the arrival of materials tonight and work to begin at once. You can bring the contract tomorrow for me to sign.”

The manager went out and got into his car in a state of shock. “Mad as a March bloody hare,” he muttered as he drove down the drive.

Behind him Lady Maud went back to the study and sat down. It was costing more than she had anticipated but it was worth every penny. And then there was the price of the animals. Lions didn’t come cheap. Nor did a rhinoceros. And finally there was the puzzle of the photographs. What were obscene pictures of Mr Dundridge doing in Giles’ safe? She got up and went out into the garden and walked up and down the path by the wall of the kitchen garden. And suddenly it dawned on her. It explained everything and in particular why Dundridge had changed his mind about the tunnel. The wretched little man had been blackmailed. Well, two could play at that game. By God they could. She went through the door into the kitchen garden.

“Has my husband ever put through a call to a woman in London?” she asked Blott.

“His secretary,” said Blott. Lady Maud shook her head. Sir Giles’ secretary wasn’t the sort of woman who would take kindly to the suggestion that she should tie her employer to a bed and beat him and in any case she was happily married.

“Anyone else?”

“No.”

“Has he ever mentioned a woman in any of his conversations on the phone?”

Blott tried to remember. “No, I don’t think so.”

“In that case, Blott,” she said, “you and I are going to London tomorrow.”

Blott gazed at her in astonishment. “To London?” He had never been to London.

“To London. We shall be away for a few days.”

“But what shall I wear?” said Blott.

“A suit of course.”

“I haven’t got one,” said Blott.

“Well then,” said Lady Maud, “we had better go into Worford and get you one. And while we’re about it we’ll get a camera as well. I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”

She went back into the house and put the photographs into an envelope and hid it behind a set of Jorrocks on the bookshelf. It might be worth paying Mr Dundridge a visit while she was in Worford.

But Dundridge was not to be found in Worford. “He’s out,” said the girl at the Regional Planning Board.

“Where?” said Lady Maud.

“Inspecting the site,” said the girl.

“Well, kindly tell him when he comes back that I have some sights I would like him to inspect.”

The girl looked at her. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she said nastily. Lady Maud suppressed the reaction to tell the little hussy exactly what she did mean.

“Tell Mr Dundridge that I have a number of photographs in which I feel sure he will take a particular interest. You had better write it down before you forget it. Tell him that. He knows where he can find me.”

She went back to the outfitters where Blott was trying on a salmon-pink suit of Harris Tweed. “If you think I’m going to be seen with you in London in that revolting article of menswear, you’ve got another think coming,” she snorted. She ran an eye over a number of less conspicuous suits and finally selected a dark grey pinstripe. “That’ll do.” By the time they left the shop Blott was fitted out with shirts, socks, underwear and ties. They called at a shoe shop and bought a pair of black shoes.

“And now all we need is a camera,” said Lady Maud as they stowed Blott’s new clothes in the back of the Land-Rover. They went into a camera shop.

“I want a camera with an excellent lens,” she told the assistant, “one that can be operated by a complete idiot.”

“You need an automatic camera,” said the man.

“No, she doesn’t,” said Blott who resented being called a complete idiot in front of strangers. “She means a Leica.”

“A Leica?” said the man. “But that’s not a camera for a novice. That’s a…”

“Blott,” said Lady Maud, taking him out onto the pavement, “do you mean to say that you know how to take photographs?”

“In the Luft… before the war I was trained in photography. I was…”

Lady Maud beamed at him. “Oh Blott,” she said, “you’re a godsend. An absolute godsend. Go and buy whatever you need to take good clear photographs.”

“What of?” asked Blott. Lady Maud hesitated. Oh well, he would have to know sooner or later. She took the plunge. “Him in bed with another woman.”

“Him?”

“Yes.”

It was Blott’s turn to beam now. “We’ll need flash and a wide-angle lens.” They went back into the shop and came out with a second-hand Leica, an enlarger, a developing tank, an electronic flash, and everything they needed. As they drove back to Handyman Hall Blott was in his seventh heaven.

Dundridge, on the other hand, was in the other place. The girl at the switchboard had phoned him as soon as Lady Maud had left.