Tom Sharpe - Blott on the Landscape

Mr Ganglion shook his head sadly. “What-he said to me, my dear Lady Maud, was by way of being a confidential communication. He was after all consulting me as a solicitor and since I represent you in any case my evidence would never be accepted by a court. Now if we could get Hoskins to testify that he had heard him accuse you of blackmail…” He phoned the Regional Planning Board and was put through to Hoskins at the Mobile HQ.

“Certainly not. I never heard anything of the sort,” said Hoskins. “Photographs? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The last thing he wanted to do was to appear in court to testify about those bloody photographs.

“Peculiar,” said Mr Ganglion. “Most peculiar, but there it is. Hoskins won’t testify.”

“That just goes to show you can’t trust anyone these days,” said Lady Maud.

She drove home in a filthy temper which wasn’t improved by having to park the Bentley outside the Lodge and walk up the drive.

If her temper was bad when she returned to the Hall that afternoon it was ten times worse the next morning. She woke to the sound of lorries driving down the Gorge road and men shouting outside the Lodge. Lady Maud picked up the phone and called Blott.

“What the devil is going on down there?” she asked.

“It’s started,” said Blott.

“Started? What’s started?”

“They’ve come to begin work.”

Lady Maud dressed and hurried down the drive to find Dundridge, Hoskins and the Chief Constable and a group of policemen standing looking at the concrete blocks under the archway.

“What’s the meaning of this?” she demanded.

“We have come to begin work here,” said Dundridge keeping close to the Chief Constable. “You are in receipt of a compulsory purchase order served on you on the 25th of June and…”

“This is private property,” said Lady Maud. “Kindly leave.”

“My dear Lady Maud,” said the Chief Constable, “I’m afraid these gentlemen are within their rights…”

“They are within my property,” said Lady Maud. “And I want them off it.”

The Chief Constable shook his head sorrowfully. “I’m sorry to have to say this…”

“Then don’t,” said Lady Maud.

“But they are fully entitled to act in accordance with their instructions and begin work on the motorway through the Park. I am here to see that they are not hindered in any way. Now if you would be so good as to order your gardener to vacate these… er… premises.”

“Order him yourself.”

“We have attempted to serve an eviction order on him but he refuses to come down. He appears to have barricaded the door. Now we don’t want to have to use force but unless he is prepared to come out I’m afraid we will have to make a forcible entry.”

“Well, I’m not stopping you,” said Lady Maud. “If that’s what you have to do, go ahead and do it.”

She stood to one side while the policemen went round the side of the Lodge and hammered at the door. Lady Maud sat on a concrete block and watched them.

The police battered at the door for ten minutes and finally broke it down only to find themselves confronted by a wall of concrete. Dundridge sent for a sledgehammer but it was quite clear that something more than a sledgehammer would be required to make an entry.

“The bastard has cemented himself in.” said Dundridge.

“I can see that for myself,” said the Chief Constable. “What are you going to do now?”

Dundridge considered the problem and consulted Hoskins. Together they walked back to the bridge and looked up at the arch. In the circumstances it had assumed a new and quite daunting stature.

“There’s no way round it,” said Hoskins, indicating the cliffs. “We would have to move thousands of tons of rock.”

“Can’t we blast a way round?”

Hoskins looked up at the cliffs and shook his head. “Could do but we’d probably kill the stupid bugger in that arch in the process.”

“So what?” said Dundridge. “If he won’t come down it’s his own fault if he gets hurt.” He didn’t say it very convincingly. It was quite clear that killing Blott would come under the heading of very unfavourable publicity at the Ministry of the Environment.

“In any case,” Hoskins pointed out, “the authorized route runs through the Gorge, not round it.”

“What about the blasting we did back at the entrance?”

“We were authorized to widen the Gorge there because of the river and besides that section doesn’t come within the area designated as of natural beauty.”

“Fuck,” said Dundridge. “I knew that old bitch would come up with something like this.”

They went back to the arch where the Chief Constable was arguing with Lady Maud.

“Are you seriously suggesting that I ordered my gardener to cement himself into the Lodge?”

“Yes,” said the Chief Constable.

“In that case, Percival Henry,” said Lady Maud, “you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.”

The Chief Constable winced. “Listen, Maud,” he said, “you know as well as I do he wouldn’t have done this without your permission.”

“Nonsense,” said Lady Maud, “I told him he could do what he wanted with the Lodge. He’s been living there for thirty years. It’s his home. If he chooses to fill the place with cement that’s his business. I refuse to accept any responsibility for his actions.”

“In that case I shall have no option but to arrest you,” said the Chief Constable.

“On what grounds?”

“For obstruction.”

“Codswallop,” said Lady Maud. She got down from the block and walked round to the back of the arch and looked up at the window.

“Blott,” she called. Blott’s head appeared at the circular window.

“Yes.”

“Blott, come down this instant and let these men get on with their work.”

“Won’t,” said Blott.

“Blott,” shouted Lady Maud, “I am ordering you to come down.”

“No,” said Blott and shut the window.

Lady Maud turned to the Chief Constable. “There you are. I have told him to come down and he won’t. Now then, are you still going to have me arrested for obstruction?”

The Chief Constable shook his head. He knew when he was beaten. Lady Maud strode back up the drive to the Hall. He turned to Dundridge. “Well, what do you suggest now?”

“There must be something we can do,” said Dundridge.

“If you’ve got any bright ideas, just let me know,” said the Chief Constable.

“What happens if we just go ahead and demolish the arch with him in it?”

“The question is,” said the Chief Constable, “what would happen to him if you did that?”

“That’s his problem,” said Dundridge. “We’ve got a legal right to remove that arch and if he’s in it when we do we’re not responsible for what happens to him.”

The Chief Constable shook his head. “You try telling that to the judge when they try you for manslaughter. I should have thought you’d have learnt your lesson from what happened at Guildstead Carbonell.” He got into his car and drove away.

Dundridge walked back across the bridge and spoke to the foreman of the demolition gang.

“Is there any way of taking that arch down without injuring the man inside?” he asked.

The foreman looked at him doubtfully. “Not if he doesn’t want us to.”

As if to give added weight to his argument Blott appeared on the roof. He was carrying a shotgun.

“You see what I mean,” said the foreman.

Blott looked expectantly over their heads, raised his gun and fired. A wood pigeon plummeted out of the sky. Dundridge could see exactly what he meant.

“There’s nothing in our contract to say we’ve got to take unnecessary risks,” said the foreman, “and a bloke who cements himself into an arch and shoots pigeons on the wing constitutes more than an unnecessary risk. He’s a bloody loony, and a crack shot into the bargain.”