Charlie and Melisa were picking the last of the fruit. Remarkable really, given we were getting so close to Christmas. Meanwhile, Kenneth and I sat on the patio, resting-up before the rigours of tea. ‘May I be permitted an impertinent question?’ He offered as an opening gambit.
‘You can try.’
‘How did your parents die?’
After a pause for thought, I decided to reply; ‘They died together in a motoring accident. Details remain somewhat vague, it happened abroad.’
‘When and where was this?’
‘Easter, nineteen eighty. Somewhere on the Swiss, French border.’
‘Do you know anything of the circumstances?’
‘The only detail in the documents is that no other vehicle was involved.’
‘Ever struck you how, convenient that might be?’
‘I trust this is leading somewhere?’
‘Yes. I apologise, I already knew, your aunt confided as much.’
‘But?’
‘But on the one hand whilst such sparse information let’s loved ones make their own narrative, as it were, on the other hand it is well, bureaucratically convenient for the authorities. Nothing is likely to be challenged, no urgent questions asked.’
‘And?’
‘Your aunt was satisfied with all that, it struck me you were someone who would want more.’
‘I am, but I’ve gleaned no more, from having all the family papers now, I mean.’
‘Thank you for indulging me. Changing the subject entirely, I don’t imagine I’m long for this world, I’ve already lived longer than any of the ancestors I’m aware of.’
‘You may yet surprise yourself.’
‘I like young Melisa; I’d hate to think she’d end up in any kind of trouble. It strikes me you might be a chap with the wit to see that through.’
‘What trouble?’
‘As I mentioned back along, I was one of the last national servicemen.’
‘At the cypher school.’
‘Quite. Well at the end of it all a very military, but civilian clothed chap turned-up, and persuaded me to join him in what we still called, Signals Intelligence, in those days.’
‘I think I see where this is headed.’
‘Yes, it was Melisa’s grandfather. Your Daphne’s father. Now, I only stayed in that world a few years, civil service pay and conditions being what they were, but they do say once in, never out! The point is, as far as I am aware Daphne has never worked in Intelligence in any capacity, but she’s always been very loyal to her father.’
‘She thinks you were regarded as unsound on account of having an eye for the ladies.’
‘And it takes one to know one. In the popular mythology chaps who go up to the university often think, long after the fact, that some doddery old tutor must have made overtures to them regarding joining the intelligence community, but their failure to recognise the fact demonstrated their unsuitability. Ever asked how you came to find yourself in Daphne’s company?’
‘Oh, really Kenneth!’
‘And more to the point, why someone would think you a likely target?’
‘A dysfunctional background?!’
‘More than that, maybe. I have no access of course, but you can’t help thinking like them after a while, often one isn’t even conscious of operating in the interests of another, the best informants may be quite unaware of what they are, better still a compliant populace...’
‘Enough Ken, I can only take so much of the hall of mirrors.’
The damp autumn-like air meant tea around the kitchen table. ‘Are you going to tell them your news?’ Said Charlie, looking in Melisa’s direction.
‘I’ve passed my driving test. Don’t have a car, but passed the test.’
‘Congratulations.’ I replied. ‘What sort of a vehicle are you looking for?’
‘A stealth car.’
‘Ha! Aren’t we all.’
And after a pause, Charlie asked; ‘What happen to Northcott Electrics?’
‘That’s a point.’ Another pause for reflection.
‘And?’
‘What?’
‘I think what Melisa is asking is, who or what, is or was, Northcott Electrics?’ Kenneth added helpfully.
‘Cat’s old second-hand van, before he got the Triumph sports, good for hiding in plain sight.’
‘Jack would know.’ Offered Charlie.
‘I imagine he would. He also has a “stealth vehicle” of course, to use Mel’s phrase, although somewhat more aggressive! Anyway, that’s all by-the-by, since Jack’s garage is our only contact in the motor trade, we must pass you over to them. Charlie, lay-on a guided tour of Jack’s place for Mel.’
‘Very good, sir.’
We all lapsed into silence again.
‘Melisa is going to do some more work experience for us, at Royal Oak this time, obviously.’
‘Excellent, but be sure you can work out how much involvement the college authorities will have, education is the same organisation as health and social care effectively, monitoring wise, if you see what I mean?’
‘Sure, won’t be for a while, everything should be official by then.’ Reassured Charlie.
‘Good.’
‘Of course, my real problem is university.’ Mel surprised me.
‘How so?’
‘Everyone assumes I want to go, should go. I’m not sure, not sure at all.’
‘And people - less smart people - feel affronted when the really smart person, for whom they thought they were creating universities, seems less than enthusiastic.’
‘You know, of course.’
‘But so does your father, what’s his take on all this?’
‘He just sits there like a lemon saying; “Anthony can advise you better on this.” Which sends mother like, crazy; “She’s your daughter, for goodness’ sake! You should...”; this, that and etcetera. But he just takes it.’
‘And you’re hesitating because?’
‘I don’t want one the professions, and I don’t want a lifetime of debt!’
‘Money’s not a problem, your father just has to phone his accountant. He’ll take a thrashing from your mother on your behalf, so you get the freedom to choose.’
‘I just want wheels, cash in hand, a trade, one of those jobs which is always going to be needed, something useful, something where I can see the result at the end of the day. As far as I can see, what with this climate thing, it’s just economic chaos and more wars about resources and stuff.’
I was shocked, though I hoped I didn’t show it, for what she’d said was music to my ears. ‘Okay, well that can go one of two ways, towards a craft or towards a skin trade.’
‘What’s a skin trade?’
‘Crimpers, the rag trade, street hawkers, vicars, tarts.’
‘Spies.’ Added Kenneth.
‘Alternative therapists, beauticians’ Said Charlie.
‘And, whatever training or courses you end up on, the principle is that you apprentice yourself to a master, who has the skills you need but don’t yet have. It may not be your actual boss, maybe someone from elsewhere who you never actually get to meet, or even someone long dead, but you lock-on to them and imitate them, and by trial and error over time... You know, what used to get me was people saying; “What are you interested in?" Or; “What are you good at?" The question ought to be; what are you enthusiastic about? What absorbs you, what makes you feel, maybe hours later, well that was really no effort at all!’
‘Oh, no. The time. Mother will kill me, again.’
‘Take some fruit, evidence of purposeful activity.’
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