Read Online Blott On The Landscape by Tom Sharpe - Free Book Online Page B

first landing there was a door marked Worford and District Gladstone Club. Dundridge looked at it doubtfully and went on up. As the woman had said, the Regional Planning Board was shut. Dundridge went downstairs and stood uncertainly on the landing. Then, reminding himself that he was the Minister’s plenipotentiary and troubleshooter, he opened the door and looked inside.
    “You looking for someone?” asked a large red-faced man who was standing beside a billiard table.
    “I’m looking for Mr Hoskins, the Planning Officer,” said Dundridge. The red-faced man put down his cue and stepped forward.
    “Then you’ve come to the right place,” he said. “Bob, there’s a bloke wants to see you.”
    Another large red-faced man who was sitting at the bar in the corner turned round and stared at Dundridge. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
    “I’m from the Ministry of the Environment,” said Dundridge.
    “Christ,” said Mr Hoskins and got down from his bar stool. “You’re early aren’t you? Wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow.”
    “The Minister is most anxious that I should get down to work as rapidly as possible.”
    “Quite right,” said Mr Hoskins more cheerfully now that he could see that Dundridge wasn’t sixty, didn’t wear gold-rimmed glasses and didn’t carry an air of authority about him. “What will you have?”
    Dundridge hesitated. It wasn’t his habit to drink in the middle of the afternoon. “A half of bitter,” he said finally.
    “Make it two pints,” Hoskins told the barman. They took their glasses across to a small table in the corner and sat down. At the billiard table the men resumed their game.
    “Awkward business this,” said Mr Hoskins, “I don’t envy you your job. Local feeling’s none too good.”
    “So I’ve noticed,” said Dundridge sipping his beer. It tasted, as he had anticipated, both strong and unpleasantly organic. On the wall opposite a portrait of Mr Gladstone glared relentlessly down on this dereliction of the licensing laws. Spurred on by his example, Dundridge attempted to explain his mission. “The Minister is particularly anxious that the negotiations should be handled tactfully. He has sent me to see that the outcome of these negotiations has the backing of all the parties involved.”
    “Has he?” said Mr Hoskins. “Well all I can say is that you’ll have your work cut out.”
    “Now as I see it, the best approach would be to propose an alternative route,” Dundridge continued.
    “We’ve done that already. Through Ottertown.”
    “Out of the question,” said Dundridge.
    “I couldn’t agree more,” said Mr Hoskins. “Which leaves the Cleene Gorge.”
    “Or the hills to the south?” suggested Dundridge hopefully.
    Mr Hoskins shook his head. “Cleene Forest is an area of natural beauty, a designated area. Not a hope in hell.”
    “Well that doesn’t leave us with many alternatives, does it?”
    “It doesn’t leave us with any,” said Mr Hoskins.
    Dundridge drank some more beer. The mood of optimism with which he had started the day had quite left him. It was all very well to talk about negotiating but there didn’t seem any negotiations to conduct. He was faced with the uneviable task of enforcing a thoroughly unpopular decision on a group of extremely influential and hostile landowners. It was not a prospect he relished. “I don’t suppose there is any chance of persuading Sir Giles Lynchwood and General Burnett to drop their opposition,” he said without much hope.
    “Not a hope in hell,” Hoskins told him, “and anyway if they did it wouldn’t make the slightest difference. It’s Lady Maud you’ve got to worry about. And she isn’t going to budge.”
    “I must say you make it sound all extremely difficult,” said Dundridge and finished his beer. By the time he left the Gladstone Club he had a clear picture of the situation. The stumbling block was Handyman Hall and Lady Maud. He would explore the possibilities of