Opal had moved out of Tinkler’s place as soon as the television project beckoned, leaving Tinkler alone in his house with only ten thousand records and a huge, extraordinary hi-fi system to comfort him. He had hoped she’d return when the documentary was complete.
And indeed she had. But only to say goodbye. “She’s dumped me to go backpacking in the USA,” he reported to us.
“Why on earth didn’t you volunteer to go backpacking with her?” said Nevada.
“I did. She said it was a journey of self-discovery. And she wouldn’t be able to discover herself if I was with her. I said I understood.”
“Do you? Understand?”
“No. She lost me at ‘self-discovery’.”
So, after a brief burst of carnal bliss, Tinkler reverted to his status as what he called our designated sexual loser.
One welcome effect of the publicity was the clearing of the name of Johnny Thomas. He was exonerated of murder. Much good it did him; in his grave all these years, neck broken by a hangman’s knot.
A happier beneficiary was Toba Possner. The story made her a hero, and she was emphatically rediscovered by the public and the art world. She was much in demand for articles and programmes about art and morality, and her paintings began to sell.
The price of her work sky-rocketed and she bought a large house in Crouch End. Luckily, Nevada had already commissioned and paid her for our portrait.
“We got in just under the wire on that one,” said Nevada.
So we no longer have any of the money Joan Honeyland gave us, but we do have a very nice painting of our two cats.
Miss Honeyland’s faith in the efficiency of the police proved justified. They discovered that one of the guns taken from the Nazi farmhouse had been used to kill Derek Roberts outside his studio in Camberwell. Other weapons were linked to other serious crimes.
Consequently, Vivian and Carroll Weston were sent to prison for a very long time. I trusted that their girlie names would serve them in good stead in the penal system.
It didn’t take long for some intrepid journalist to make the connection between Farmer Henry Versus the Locusts and a certain rancid anti-Semitic pamphlet. Consequently Lucky’s work began to vanish off the kids’ shelves of bookshops and libraries. And thankfully not in a suddenly-in-demand way.
As far as racism in vintage children’s literature goes, it definitely made Enid Blyton’s golliwogs seem mild by comparison.
These days you meet far fewer people who admit to having adored Farmer Henry’s adventures when they were kids. And as Joan Honeyland predicted, the value of her father’s literary estate plummeted, and some venture capitalists were able to pick up all of his assets for a rock-bottom price.
Which may yet prove to be a smart move. I understand there is an initiative in Hollywood to rehabilitate and reinvent his children’s classics in an acceptable form. In fact, there’s an animated feature in production.
Coming soon, to a movie screen near you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Controversy still surrounds the British bombing campaign in Europe during World War Two. One thing is for certain: too many died on all sides, both combatants and non-combatants.
Anyone interested in the historical background to this novel should read Max Hastings’ brilliant work of non-fiction Bomber Command and Len Deighton’s equally brilliant work of fiction Bomber.
There have been a number of releases of Glenn Miller’s wartime band on vinyl, and later on CD.
But if you’re after the music of the Flare Path Orchestra, I’m afraid you’re on your own.
AC
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my splendid editor Ella Chappell, my unparalleled publicist Lydia Gittins and my ingenious cover designer Martin Stiff. And of course to the usual suspects: Guy Adams, without whom these books would have remained on my hard drive, and Miranda Jewess who was the first to believe in them and make them a reality. To my old friend Ben Aaronovitch for unfailing encouragement and help, and insisting I put the cats in. To my super ninja agent John Berlyne. To Sebastian Scotney at London Jazz News for outstanding support and patronage. To Mike Gething for lots of lovely records and suggesting the Vinyl Detective LP, and helping to make it happen. To the formidable Andrew Wilk for being my jazz and vinyl mentor. To Alan Ross of Jazz House records for enabling my habit. To Jean-Michel Bernard for making fantastic music and introducing me to the maestro, Lalo Schifrin. To Joe Kraemer for driving me to Lalo’s house in Beverley Hills, for composing amazing music of his own, and for being my friend. To Penny Winchester, Dimitri Del Castillo and Lenore, my friends in Los Angeles. And especially to Howard Hayes, the most generous man I know. Happy trails, amigo.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrew Cartmel is a novelist and screenwriter. He is the author of the Vinyl Detective series, which was hailed as “marvellously inventive and endlessly fascinating” by Publishers Weekly. His work for television includes commissions for Midsomer Murders and Torchwood, and a legendary stint as script editor on Doctor Who. He has also written plays for the London Fringe, toured as a stand-up comedian, and is currently co-writing a series of comics with Ben Aaronovitch based on the bestselling Rivers of London books. He lives in London with too much vinyl and just enough cats.
Victory Disc Page 33