Free The Black Seraphim by Michael Gilbert Page B

in the spacious Chapter House, an octagonal building which could hold two hundred people easily.
    All the real power was vested in the Inner Chapter, which consisted of the four Canons Residentiary and was presided over by the Dean. Recently the meetings had been held at the Deanery and it was there that they met that morning, in the beautiful house designed by Christopher Wren, standing at the south-east corner of the Close and overlooking the river.
    Men were already busy on the lawn outside, putting up the marquee for the buffet luncheon of the Friends. The sight of it seemed to remind the Archdeacon of something and he made a note on the pad in front of him.
    The Dean said, in his most formal voice: “It is at your request that this meeting has been called, Archdeacon. Perhaps you will speak first, then.”
    The Archdeacon said, with equal formality: “Thank you, Dean. I will be as brief as I can. Maxwell Gloag and Partners have received an offer to buy the whole of our meadowland on the west bank of the river, known popularly as Fletcher’s Piece. It is roughly fifteen acres and the sum offered is twelve thousand pounds an acre. A total purchase price of about a hundred and eighty thousand pounds.”
    Canon Lister said, “At the moment it’s farmland.”
    “Correct, Tom. Mr Pellett, who farms it, has also had an offer made to him for the surrender of his lease which he is prepared to accept.”
    “I wasn’t thinking of Farmer Pellett. I was thinking of the planning authorities.”
    “Have they managed to buy them, too?” said the Dean.
    “The deal would be conditional on the purchasers being able to obtain planning permission for general industrial development or, failing that, for residential development. I’m given to understand that soundings have already been taken and that one or other of these applications is likely to be successful.”
    “You talk about purchasers,” said the Dean. “Can you be a little more specific? Is the favoured purchaser Wessex Instrumentation?”
    “Not directly. Gloag tells me he is acting for a syndicate who are prepared to put up the money. Their plan would be to sell part to the Instrumentation company, who badly need room to expand. The remainder would be sold to developers for a housing estate. That might pay them even more handsomely.”
    “So that if we sell,” said Canon Lister, “we have the choice of being overlooked by a factory, or a row of other people’s back gardens, or both. I must confess that I don’t find the prospect attractive.”
    The Archdeacon said, “Superficially, Tom, I agree with you. But bear in mind that we have grown used to the almost monastic seclusion of this Close. It is a seclusion which few cathedrals enjoy. St Paul’s stands among office blocks. Winchester has houses and shops all round it. Exeter, Ely and Rochester are planted in the centres of the town and open on all sides to the public. Have we, perhaps, got a little spoiled if we shudder at the thought of a row of new houses on the far side of the river?”
    Canon Maude said, “You know, there’s something in that.”
    The Dean looked at him speculatively. Before he could say anything, the Archdeacon had continued, speaking in the calm reasonable voice that Canon Humphrey classified as “good committee”. He said, “A hundred and eighty thousand pounds is not, perhaps, an enormous sum of money by modern standards. But consider one point. If one invests money to produce income, one can currently get a return of between twelve and fifteen percent. In our case, as a charity, that is free of tax. If we took the money, I would suggest that we set it aside and allowed it to grow. I have not made an exact computation, but in three years’ time it would have increased by approximately a further eighty thousand pounds. This would give us what we have always needed at Melchester and never had: a proper self-supporting fabric fund.”
    The Dean seemed to have been making some