just Dora. It's Dora Pinchbeck.'
'Ah.
Well-'
'Dora,'
said Reginald Flowers firmly, 'I would be very grateful if you could do those
letters straight away, and then you can enjoy your day in the beach
hut.'
'Well,
I'd really rather—'
'If you would be so kind,' came the implacable order.
'Oh,
very well.' And Dora shuffled her notebook and pen into her bag. 'I'll have to
lock up Cape of Good Hope before I go.'
'That
will be quite permissible,' her magnanimous boss assured her.
With
a long-suffering sigh, Dora Pinchbeck scuttled off to her beach hut.
'And
bring the letters here for me to sign as soon as you've finished them!' Reginald
Flowers called after her. Then he turned back to bestow a gracious smile on
Carole. 'As I say, I am the President of the Smalting Beach Hut Association. As
such, I do of course know everything that goes on in these beach huts.'
'I'm
sure you do. Anyway, nice to meet you.' Nodding towards the collection in the
hut, Carole said, 'An ex-naval man, I assume?'
His
face darkened. 'No, I did not myself in fact serve before the mast, though many
of my ancestors
did.
Let's just say that the history of the British Navy has been a lifelong
interest of mine and one that in retirement I have been able to pursue more
thoroughly.'
Carole
was about to respond: 'I'd never have guessed,' but decided it might sound
flippant to someone who was as clearly obsessed as Reginald Flowers. So instead
she commented on the splendour of his hoard. 'Do you really leave it here all
the time? Isn't there a terrible risk of it all being stolen?'
'No,
Mrs Seddon. Although I do take the collection home during the winter months,
there is in fact no danger of any of it being stolen. That is what the Smalting
Beach Hut Association is there for.'
'Oh?'
'During
the summer months the SBHA - as we call it - appoints a security officer, whose
job it is to patrol the beach huts and ensure that their security is
maintained.'
'What
a good idea. Isn't that rather expensive, though?'
'The
SBHA has funds to cover the costs.'
'And
where do those funds come from?'
'Some
from Fether District Council.' A shadow crossed his face, as though he
regretted having to take help from that source. 'One of the first actions of
the SBHA when I formed it was to lobby the Council for a security officer. And
I won that little battle, as I have won many other set-tos with Fether District
Council.' His face darkened again. 'Though sadly they would not let me sit on
the selection board when the security officer was appointed.'
'So
are you saying that the Council supports the SBHA financially?'
'Only
a very little. They do no more than they absolutely have to, and even that is
after a lot of lobbying from us . . . well, from me usually. No, the costs of
running the SBHA are raised largely from subscriptions.'
'Oh.'
Suddenly Carole realized how she should respond to this prompt. 'Well, I should
pay a subscription, shouldn't I?'
'Yes,
that would be a good thing. The SBHA exists to look after the concerns of all
beach hut users. And your subscription also entitles you to receive our regular
newsletter, The Hut Parade.'
'What
an amusing title,' Carole lied.
'Well,
we like it.' The smile that accompanied these words left no doubt that it was
Reginald Flowers who had thought up the name for the newsletter. Carole
reckoned he was probably its editor too. 'Your subscription also secures for
you a complimentary annual tide table. All new members get that.' There was
disapproval in Reginald Flowers's voice as he continued, 'I gather you have
taken over the rental of Quiet Harbour from Miss Rose.'
'Yes,
but it's all been cleared with Kelvin Southwest from the Fether District
Council.'
A
cynical light came into Reginald Flowers's watery blue
'Ah.
Well-'
'Dora,'
said Reginald Flowers firmly, 'I would be very grateful if you could do those
letters straight away, and then you can enjoy your day in the beach
hut.'
'Well,
I'd really rather—'
'If you would be so kind,' came the implacable order.
'Oh,
very well.' And Dora shuffled her notebook and pen into her bag. 'I'll have to
lock up Cape of Good Hope before I go.'
'That
will be quite permissible,' her magnanimous boss assured her.
With
a long-suffering sigh, Dora Pinchbeck scuttled off to her beach hut.
'And
bring the letters here for me to sign as soon as you've finished them!' Reginald
Flowers called after her. Then he turned back to bestow a gracious smile on
Carole. 'As I say, I am the President of the Smalting Beach Hut Association. As
such, I do of course know everything that goes on in these beach huts.'
'I'm
sure you do. Anyway, nice to meet you.' Nodding towards the collection in the
hut, Carole said, 'An ex-naval man, I assume?'
His
face darkened. 'No, I did not myself in fact serve before the mast, though many
of my ancestors
did.
Let's just say that the history of the British Navy has been a lifelong
interest of mine and one that in retirement I have been able to pursue more
thoroughly.'
Carole
was about to respond: 'I'd never have guessed,' but decided it might sound
flippant to someone who was as clearly obsessed as Reginald Flowers. So instead
she commented on the splendour of his hoard. 'Do you really leave it here all
the time? Isn't there a terrible risk of it all being stolen?'
'No,
Mrs Seddon. Although I do take the collection home during the winter months,
there is in fact no danger of any of it being stolen. That is what the Smalting
Beach Hut Association is there for.'
'Oh?'
'During
the summer months the SBHA - as we call it - appoints a security officer, whose
job it is to patrol the beach huts and ensure that their security is
maintained.'
'What
a good idea. Isn't that rather expensive, though?'
'The
SBHA has funds to cover the costs.'
'And
where do those funds come from?'
'Some
from Fether District Council.' A shadow crossed his face, as though he
regretted having to take help from that source. 'One of the first actions of
the SBHA when I formed it was to lobby the Council for a security officer. And
I won that little battle, as I have won many other set-tos with Fether District
Council.' His face darkened again. 'Though sadly they would not let me sit on
the selection board when the security officer was appointed.'
'So
are you saying that the Council supports the SBHA financially?'
'Only
a very little. They do no more than they absolutely have to, and even that is
after a lot of lobbying from us . . . well, from me usually. No, the costs of
running the SBHA are raised largely from subscriptions.'
'Oh.'
Suddenly Carole realized how she should respond to this prompt. 'Well, I should
pay a subscription, shouldn't I?'
'Yes,
that would be a good thing. The SBHA exists to look after the concerns of all
beach hut users. And your subscription also entitles you to receive our regular
newsletter, The Hut Parade.'
'What
an amusing title,' Carole lied.
'Well,
we like it.' The smile that accompanied these words left no doubt that it was
Reginald Flowers who had thought up the name for the newsletter. Carole
reckoned he was probably its editor too. 'Your subscription also secures for
you a complimentary annual tide table. All new members get that.' There was
disapproval in Reginald Flowers's voice as he continued, 'I gather you have
taken over the rental of Quiet Harbour from Miss Rose.'
'Yes,
but it's all been cleared with Kelvin Southwest from the Fether District
Council.'
A
cynical light came into Reginald Flowers's watery blue
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