Who Sent Clement?

by Keith A Pearson

  Far from alleviating my worries, Clement’s parcel has achieved the opposite. I feel utterly helpless, and more than a little guilty for not insisting Clement sought help sooner.

  “Shall I put the kettle on, darling?”

  My mother’s voice snaps me from my malaise.

  “Please.”

  “I’ve put all your clothes away, and your toiletries back in the bathroom.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  She busies herself making the tea as I slump back in my chair.

  “I’m making your favourite for dinner, darling — sausage and onion pie.”

  I’ve never had the heart to tell her that sausage and onion pie ceased to be my favourite meal about twenty years ago.

  “Great.”

  “And I thought we could curl up on the sofa this afternoon and watch a film.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  She suddenly spins around, a look of concern on her face.

  “What’s the matter, darling? You don’t seem yourself.”

  “It’s nothing, Mum. I think things have just caught up with me.”

  Liar.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Honestly, I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  She shuffles over and runs her hand through my hair. “I know you will, darling. You’re just like your father — tough as old boots.”

  Just as she’s about to return to tea-making duties, she spots Clement’s book on the table. For some reason, she stands motionless and stares down at it, temporarily transfixed.

  “You alright, Mum?”

  “Eh? Oh yes, sorry.” she splutters, her trance broken as abruptly as it arrived. “I’ll get your tea.”

  “Seems I’m not the only one out of sorts,” I chuckle.

  She smiles down at me. “Ignore me. Just one of those silly moments.”

  “Something you want to share?”

  “It’s not important.”

  “If something is worrying you, then it is important.”

  “No, darling, you misunderstand. Nothing is worrying me, it’s just…”

  Her mouth drops a fraction and she lets a little sigh escape.

  “It’s just…that book.”

  “What about it?”

  “James and The Giant Peach — your father bought a copy for you. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about it until I saw it there on the table.”

  “Did he? I don’t remember reading it.”

  She pulls up a chair and sits a few feet from me.

  “No, you wouldn’t. Your dad called me the day he bought it, and sounded so pleased with himself. He knew you’d love it.”

  “Right. So why didn’t he give it to me?”

  She swallows hard and takes my hands in hers. “Because, darling, it was the same day as his…accident. The book was in the car with him.”

  I hear my mother’s words but making sense of them proves impossible.

  And then, something connects. Clement’s scribbled message…

  Anyway, hope you enjoy the book. Don’t ask me why, or how, but that voice in my head said you were supposed to have it.

  How the hell could he have possibly known my dad bought the very same book for me, on the very day he died?

  Unless…

  ONE YEAR LATER…

  THAMESVIEW TV STUDIO - LONDON

  As the presenter of Big Entertainment Live, one of the network’s most-watched weekly programmes, Libby Green is a well-known face on TV. She is now considered a ‘Goldilocks presenter’; a label once used by chauvinistic producers to describe female presenters old enough to carry some authority with famous guests, but young enough to look good on camera.

  Nobody dare use that label within earshot of Libby.

  She has hosted Big Entertainment Live for over four years and reached the top of her game. That achievement also brings the power to make or break careers.

  With only minutes remaining before the show is due to go live; the set is a hive of activity. Amongst it all, Libby sits serenely in a leather-bound chair while a make-up artist applies a few finishing touches to Libby’s already flawless skin. As the makeup artist dabs away, a hairstylist fusses over Libby's blonde locks to ensure not a single hair is out of place.

  “Thirty seconds, people,” a voice booms.

  The two stylists scamper away and Libby begins a series of vocal exercises.

  “Ten seconds,” the voice booms, with a little more urgency.

  Libby takes a sip of water and calmly places her glass down on a coffee table, positioned between host and guest.

  “Going live in five, four…”

  On cue, Libby’s face explodes into a welcoming smile as the camera zooms in for a head shot.

  The studio audience of three hundred had prior instructions to clap and cheer as if their lives depended on it. They don’t hold back.

  Friday night, nine o’clock, and the show is live.

  For the first ten minutes, Libby goes through a heavily-scripted introduction, covering highlights of the week’s entertainment news. Carefully crafted jokes are dropped, and the audience laughs and whoops when prompted. To anyone watching at home, it all appears seamlessly spontaneous.

  With the crowd warmed up, Libby moves on to introduce her first guest of the night.

  “This lady has taken the literary world by storm and I’m delighted to welcome her to Big Entertainment Live. Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Beth Baxter.”

  Libby stands and joins the audience in applause as her guest enters through an archway at the rear of the set.

  Dressed in a black, off-the-shoulder Dolce & Gabbana dress, Beth Baxter moves confidently across the studio floor. She reaches her host and they shake hands before taking their seats.

  The audience quietens and Libby goes to work.

  “Firstly, I must say what an honour it is to have you on the show, Beth. You’re a lady in huge demand at the moment, aren’t you?”

  “The honour is all mine, Libby. And yes, it’s been a crazy time for me.”

  Libby then turns to the audience, both in the studio and watching at home.

  “For those of you who’ve been living in a cave for the last few months, Beth Baxter is the author of the best-selling novel, The Angel of Camden.”

  Returning her focus to her guest, Libby continues. “And I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say it’s been a colossal hit, both here in the UK and in the US. How do you feel about that success, Beth, considering it’s your debut novel?”

  “If I’m honest, Libby, it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind. In the nine weeks since it was released, my feet have barely touched the ground. I could never have dreamt it would take off in the way it has, and I’m incredibly humbled.”

  “And for the handful of people watching who haven’t read The Angel of Camden, could you give us a quick overview of the plot?”

  “Sure. The main protagonist, Louise, is the manager of a book store. And through no fault of her own, she finds herself in debt to a corrupt property developer.”

  “That’s down to her fiancé, Kevin?” Libby interjects.

  “That’s right, Libby. And after Kevin disappears, poor old Louise faces the prospect of losing her home.”

  “And this is where things start to get a little crazy, right?”

  “They do indeed, Libby. One evening, while Louise is doing a stock take in the shop, a man appears, seemingly from nowhere.”

  “Not just any man, though? Tell us about the hero of the story — Cliff.”

  “He’s an absolute giant of a man and claims he was once a fixer in gangland London. He then drops the bombshell that he’s Louise’s guardian angel and has been sent to help.”

  “But Louise thinks he’s a crackpot, doesn’t she?”

  “She does.”

  Libby then turns back to the audience.

  “I have a confession to make at this point. Crackpot or not, I’ve developed a bit of a guilty crush on Cliff.”

&nb
sp; Exaggerated laughter peels across the studio.

  “Well, you’re not alone there, Libby. I found out the other day that Cliff now has his own fan page on Facebook, with over fifty thousand members.”

  “Really? That’s incredible. I’ll be straight on to Facebook after the show.”

  More laughter from the audience.

  “So, Beth. Tell us what happens after Cliff barges into Louise’s life.”

  “Okay, without giving any spoilers, Cliff comes up with a plan to find the money for Kevin’s debt, and that plan turns into a bit of an adventure.”

  “They end up going on a sort of treasure hunt across London, don’t they?”

  “They do, and besides their search, the story focuses on the way their relationship develops.”

  Libby smiles at her guest and turns to face the camera. “We’ll come back to that relationship in a moment. Join us after the break where we’ll be chatting a little more with author, Beth Baxter.”

  As the audience claps, the camera moves from Libby and her guest, and sweeps across the sea of cheery faces.

  The adverts roll.

  A few miles across London, Jimmi Kumar is standing outside a terraced house in Stepney. He doesn’t live in the house but he does own it, and Jimmi has just collected the weekly rent from his six tenants. Paid in cash, of course.

  There are six bedsit rooms in the three-storey house. Numbered one to six, there are two located on the ground floor, three on the first, and room number six in the converted loft.

  In that top room, the tenant is perched on the edge of a single bed, watching Big Entertainment Live on a portable TV. As the adverts begin, he kicks off his boots and lights a cigarette with a disposable lighter. He isn’t supposed to smoke in the room, but considering the walls and ceiling were already stained with nicotine when he moved in, he doubts the landlord is that bothered.

  In truth, Jimmi isn’t bothered. He has no desire to get on the wrong side of the tenant in room six. Besides, he pays his rent on time and keeps himself to himself. If he wants to smoke, Jimmi isn’t going to stop him.

  Back at Thamesview Studio, a countdown begins on set — ten seconds until the adverts end. Presenter and guest sip water, and ready themselves.

  The audience applaud, signalling the viewers at home are back, and the show is live once more.

  The camera zooms in on Libby. “Welcome back to Big Entertainment Live, where I’m joined by the author, Beth Baxter.”

  The camera switches to a smiling Beth.

  “So, Beth. We were talking about the relationship between Cliff and Louise. I was fascinated by that dynamic because they were such different people.”

  “They are very different but in some way, they both needed one another. Cliff was out of his depth in a world he no longer recognised, and Louise was pretty blind to her own shortcomings, particularly her trust issues. For me, that part of the story was the most enjoyable to write.”

  “Fascinating. Now, let’s talk about your journey. How did a book shop owner suddenly find herself a best-selling author?”

  “Well, it started when I sold my book shop last year. That gave me both the time and money to concentrate on writing. I had a spell in hospital and used that time to formulate the plot of The Angel of Camden. When I was discharged, I was able to pen the entire book within three months.”

  “Good to hear something positive came from your stay in hospital. Is your book shop still open?”

  “Unfortunately not. A few months after I sold up, I heard the buyer sadly passed away. Heart attack, I think.”

  “Oh, how tragic.”

  “It was, but he was an old man. He enjoyed a good innings.”

  Libby does her best to look sympathetic before quickly moving the interview along.

  “It’s been rumoured that besides the fact you and Louise both ran a book shop, there are other parts of the story that mirror your life. Can you tell us about that?”

  “Well, I’ve never broken into a disused tube station, or lied my way into a church,” Beth laughs nervously. “But yes, some of the story reflects my real life. I lost my father when I was young, and like Louise, I wasn’t particularly lucky in love.”

  “And is that still the case?”

  “I’m glad to say it isn’t, Libby. I started dating a lovely chap called Richard about ten months ago, and we’ve just decided to move in together.”

  “Ohh, how lovely. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Is he anything like Cliff?”

  “Quite the opposite,” Beth chuckles.

  “I know thousands of your fans will be dying to know the answer to my next question. Was Cliff based upon a real person?”

  Beth’s smile fades away.

  “Yes. He was.”

  “Somebody famous?”

  “No. A dear friend.”

  “And what does your friend think of the fact he’s been immortalised in print?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not in my life anymore.”

  Libby senses vulnerability in Beth. Never one to miss an opportunity of a scoop, she decides to dig a little deeper.

  “Did you have a falling out?”

  “Not in the traditional sense.”

  “We’re intrigued now, Beth. Can you tell us what happened?”

  “He told me something and I didn’t believe him. Turned out that he was telling the truth all along.”

  “A bit like Cliff and Louise?”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “And you never got the chance to apologise?”

  “Sadly, I left it too late and he’d already moved on. He did leave me a gift, though — the greatest gift anyone could have wished for.”

  Libby moves the conversation back to more salient matters.

  “Do you know where your friend is now?”

  Beth pauses for a moment and then stares straight into the camera. “Unfortunately not, but wherever he is, I hope he found his own version of heaven.”

  In Stepney, the tenant in room six smiles to himself as he stares at Beth Baxter’s face on the TV screen.

  “Nothing like heaven,” he mumbles. “But as far as purgatory goes, it ain’t so bad, doll.”

  THE END

  Before You Go...

  Well, that was Who Sent Clement? — I genuinely hope you enjoyed it. If you did, and have a few minutes spare, I would be eternally grateful if you could leave a review on Amazon. If you’re feeling particularly generous, a mention on Facebook or a Tweet would be equally appreciated. I know it’s a pain, but it’s the only way us indie authors can compete with the big publishing houses.

  Coming Next…

  As for Clement, his next adventure is entitled Wrong’un, and you can pick up your copy, in ebook or paperback format, from Amazon.

  Stay in Touch…

  For more information about me and to receive updates on new releases, visit my website...

  www.keithapearson.co.uk

  If you have any questions or general feedback, you can also reach me, or follow me, on social media…

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/pearson.author

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/keithapearson

  Acknowledgements…

  There have been several people whose help has been invaluable in writing this book. I would therefore like to offer my sincere thanks to…

  Aisla Campbell — the lady who kicks my writing in the right direction. My books would be significantly less readable without Ailsa’s hard work, advice, and honest feedback. I’m so grateful our paths crossed.

  Tom Salter — not just a gentleman, but an absolute mine of information. Tom really helped me to capture the essence of London in the sixties and seventies. This book would not have been as authentic without Tom’s input, and Clement wouldn’t have been quite the same character.

  Deborah Howard (Prestige Pawnbrokers) — very generous with her time and as a result, Deborah helped me to understand the realities of selling gold bars and the world
of pawnbroking.

  Andrew Acquier FRICS — the go-to guy for rock & roll memorabilia. Some fairly fundamental plot points rested on Clement’s Zippo lighter. Without Andrew’s expert advice, I suspect those plot points would have been flaky, at best.

  Jane Lacey (St Michaels, Aldershot) — with so little knowledge of church-related matters, particularly bell towers, Jane was incredibly helpful in ensuring I got my facts correct.