Whiteley George listened to the peal of bells. The longcase clock in the hallway struck ten. There was still time to attend Mattins at the Parish Church, but the former Organ Trustee had lost his enthusiasm for worship since the near-debacle over the procurement of Grindrod’s hydraulic machines. The land deal was secure, thanks to Burchill’s death, tragic and unforeseen as that had been. George thought back to the arguments that the two of them were always having and shook his head. TAB only ever agreed to participate in the town planning project to get the organ rebuild funded. The good doctor never wished for the money from all the concerts to be used for acquiring land. He had nevertheless gone along with it, until that final refusal to cooperate. It was just before that performance of Temple Mann&rsqu...

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