London Blues
Page 29
Let’s just say … servants of the Crown … and leave it at that. And I’ve put the emphasis on servants.
You get my drift?
L’Envoi
Now’s the Time
The drama’s done. Why then here does anyone step forth?
– Herman Melville Moby Dick (1851)
GEORGE TREADWELL: A couple of years ago, just before Christmas, I took the grandchildren to the castle over in Rochester. It was bitterly cold and we were the only people about. We were standing by the wall looking over the Medway at the boats and things and the bridges.
I was standing there watching them play and I had this funny feeling I was being watched. I turned around and looked across the grounds towards the keep. There wasn’t a soul about. All I could see was a black dog sniffing about by that house that’s built into the wall. Nothing else at all.
A little later, after we had walked along the wall a bit, I had the same funny feeling. I looked back and I saw this man standing right by the keep, near the steps that lead up. He had a long raincoat on and he was standing there with his hands in his pockets. Just standing there and staring across in our direction … at me, in fact. He wasn’t moving. Just like a statue. Still.
I started walking towards him and when I was about halfway across the park I glanced back at the kids to see they were all right and then when I looked back to the keep the man had gone. Just vanished.
I carried on and when I got to the keep I looked all around it and couldn’t see anyone. He’d gone. Just disappeared. I couldn’t make it out really because there was nowhere he could have got to without me seeing him.
Now you may not believe this, but I’ll swear to the day I die that it was Tim there. It was. I know it was. Don’t ask me what he was doing there because I don’t know. Perhaps a little visit for old times’ sake? I don’t know. But it was him.
I stood there looking around but I realised he had vanished. It was very quiet. I looked across the grass and saw little Alex and Michael coming towards me, calling out.
I told my wife about this and she laughed. She reckons I imagined it or I’m going senile or something. Perhaps your mind does play tricks on you but this didn’t feel like any trick.
When had I last seen Tim? It must have been about 1960 when he came down here to pick up a case I was looking after for him. Over thirty years ago.
That wasn’t the last time I’d had contact with him because we spoke on the phone a few times after that. I was supposed to go up to London and stay with him some time but I never got around to it. Wish I had, but there was never the time. There wasn’t much time for anything in those days, I was starting up the business and working all hours God gave.
Now another thing happened that same afternoon, about three-quarters of an hour later. I’d taken the kids for tea and scones down in the High Street and we’d come out of this place and I stopped. I just stopped and looked down the High Street to where Northgate crosses it. And then from up College Gate towards the cathedral and the castle a car appeared and silently drove across the High Street and down Northgate and out of sight. It was a Mercedes-Benz 450SEL from the late sixties or thereabouts – a nice big car, beautiful bit of design, with lots of gleaming chrome work. It looked like new, like brand new … in that lovely nonmetallic gold you don’t see much any more. Somebody had spent a good few bob on restoring it. Not many of them about. Very distinctive but not flashy or anything. The windows were all darkened glass so you couldn’t see in. It glided across the High Street and didn’t seem to make a sound.
Now, if that was Tim up by the keep … I know he was also in that Merc. It was him all right. I didn’t see him, but I know it was … I just wished he’d said hello. There’s so much we’ve got to talk about.
A Note on the Typeface
This book was composed in PALATINO – a face designed originally by Herman Zapf for the German typefounders Stempel in 1950. The roman has broad letters and strong, inclined serifs. The italic has a lightness and grace that reflects its calligraphic origins. MICHELANGELO and SISTINA are companion titling fonts.
About the Author
Anthony Frewin was born in London and lives in Hertfordshire. He was an assistant to the film director Stanley Kubrick for over 25 years. He has written two other novels published by No Exit Press, Sixty-Three Closure and Scorpian Rising. He also wrote the original screenplay for the John Malkovich film Colour Me Kubrick.
Copyright
This ebook edition first published in 2011
First published in 1997
by No Exit Press
an imprint of Oldcastle Books
P O Box 394,
Harpenden, AL5 1XJ
www.noexit.co.uk
All rights reserved
© Anthony Frewin, 1997
The right of Anthony Frewin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN
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978–1–84243–616–5 epub
978–1-84243–617–2 pdf
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