Of all the Chawbury diaspora, the most tragic was Greg. It was a hugely public humiliation losing the Mid-Hampshire seat to the Liberal Democrats at the General Election, with an 18 percent swing against the national trend. The explanation was all too clear: voter mutiny against an unpopular and obnoxious candidate. Even loyal lifelong Tories either abstained or voted Lib Dem as tales of Greg’s arrogance swept the constituency. Many people were openly critical of Miles for imposing him on them in the first place. Having heard the crushing result from the chief returning officer on Election night, Greg gave a long, bitter and partly incoherent speech from the platform, blaming his defeat on his party workers, the constituency Secretary, the local media, Miles, Ross, Lord Pendleton and anyone else who came to mind. It was all excruciatingly embarrassing. Afterwards, he got straight into his car and drove up to London, never to return. These days, he makes a living writing weekly columns for the New Statesman and the Sunday Mirror, full of bile and contempt for both the government and the opposition, as well as for business and commerce, the education system, the Establishment, the green movement and many other pet hates. He seldom missed an opportunity to slag off his ex-wife in print, and also to attack Ross. Mollie in particular found this very hurtful, but Hugh told her to just ignore it. ‘Everyone else does.’
What with his workload at Freeza Mart and the renovation of the Jacobean manor, Ross was in no hurry to decide what to do about Chawbury Park. For three years it just stood there, held up by scaffolding, and increasingly a magnet for vandals on motorcycles. For a time, Ross thought it would be easier simply to put it up for sale in its present condition and get shot of it. But he enjoyed bringing parties of mates to the pheasant shoot over Matt Marland’s old land. In the end, he decided to demolish the rest of Chawbury Park, leaving only the stable yard and garages standing, which he converted into a dining room for shooting lunches. Everything else was flattened. Only a few outbuildings and garden walls gave any clue that a sizeable house had once existed on the site.
Ross arranged for plantations of native English trees to be established on the old paddocks and lawns, in tens of thousands of grow tubes, and for shallow ponds to be dug as habitats for newts and salamanders. In time, horseshoe bats took up residence in the ruins of the old sauna and gym complex where they roosted undisturbed from one year to the next. When he was interviewed by the Sunday Times following his knighthood for services to retail in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list, and was asked what he thought his greatest achievement had been, Ross immediately said his nature reserve at Chawbury Park. ‘Long after all the rest of it’s gone and forgotten, all the stores, warehouses, merchandise, all of it, I like to think the trees I’ve planted will still be standing, the oaks and whatnot, and the ponds for endangered species. That’s something I’m proud of, for sure. That and my wife and the kids, and my stepson Ollie, of course.’
Pride and Avarice Page 54