[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.’‘But so what?’‘People will hear you’re going to put this situation into a book.’‘Is that bad?’‘It might be.’ Marsh made a decision then.It would be wisest to take Vagrain to see Adrian Pellotte right away at his place on Whitsun.Marsh wanted this visit to Moorhen Street by Vagrain to be known about and open.It would be known about, anyway, because Vagrain did his bloody stupid, careless door knocking in the street like a Jehovah’s Witness, but not enough like a Jehovah’s Witness.And people passing must have noticed him and that clever mouth and fucking white scarf crouched over the voice box for so long with his bleat.Better Adrian heard about it all direct and honest by Bert, not from possible gossip.Perhaps Adrian wouldn’t mind seeing Vagrain.Adrian was into books and authors.And most likely by being helpful to Vagrain, Adrian would want to show he didn’t get people such as the journalist removed because they came doing probes and then writing stuff.That is, he would want to show he didn’t get people such as the journalist removed if he didn’t get him removed.Or if he did.Especially if he did.Bert had to keep in mind how good, regular cash came by messenger every week from the firm just for having been with Gladstone on a decent domestic basis at the time of his slaughter.This money could stop absolutely, just as Gladstone’s trading prize got stopped absolutely by Pellotte.And worse than that could happen if Pellotte ever thought Marsh had fed confidential tips on the quiet to Vagrain about Whitsun.It might be regarded as unforgivable.Adrian liked books, but there were books, and books.Vagrain had been examining a picture-print of the Pope’s Swiss Guard at the Vatican.Now he broke from the art.‘What I’d like, Bert, is simply to watch the street for a while through your upstairs front window.’‘Watch? Who you looking for?’ God, a hunt, after all? Was he really a writer?‘No, not looking for anybody specific.It’s only to get the sense of the street, the pageant of day-to-day activity, the pageant of, as it were, normality.Invaluable to a novelist.’Whitsun didn’t have any normality.What one lot considered normal, others regarded as sick or crazy or disgusting or foreign.‘Not on, old son,’ Marsh said.‘People would think it’s undercover surveillance.I’d get all the windows smashed – as starters.’‘Surveillance? Surveillance.’ Vagrain sort of held this word up to examine it all round, like sexing a kitten.‘Well, yes, in a sense I suppose it would be.I need to survey the patterns, the routines, of their days.“Surveillance” is only a heavy word for totally harmless observation.’‘Surveillance up here means police, and so would observation, not an author on the look out for normalness,’ Bert said.‘Perhaps this will surprise you, Abel, but hardly any authors come to Moorhen Street and stare out through windows.That author Adrian and Dean are fans of, Anthony Powell, but not said like that – Pow-well – but Pole – he never comes up here to Whitsun or Temperate and stares out of windows collecting atmos.It will be bad for me if people think I let police use my place for snooping.They’d decide I must have an arrangement with that dame detective, Esther Davidson.’‘I’d be discreet, keep behind the curtains.’‘They’d expect you to be discreet, wouldn’t they? Officers on surveillance don’t stand in the middle of the glass flashing their fucking buttons and night sticks.People here are used to curtains.They know about discreet.’Vagrain gave a small smile and nodded.‘The fact that I mustn’t do it – that you warn me off so vigorously from doing it – that, in itself, is a unique glimpse.’‘Not having a glimpse from the window is a glimpse?’‘It’s a glimpse at the prevailing conditions here, isn’t it? On Whitsun, someone innocently standing at a window, even if concealed by curtains, would be regarded as a menace.’‘Especially if concealed by curtains.Neighbours would ask, “Who’s that trying to conceal himself behind the fucking curtains, and why? And what’s Bert Marsh letting him do it for on his property?” Nobody’s going to answer, “Oh, of course, of course – silly old me! – it must be an author taking a fruitful gaze at normalness.’‘I need to get the feel of specific pavements under my shoes,’ Vagrain said.‘It’s how I work.I must have contact.’‘These pavements are like other pavements, but probably more dog shit than Mayfair way.People up there scoop and bag it, considering the environment.Whitsun might do less of that.They think a bit more dog shit in Whitsun won’t be crucial one way or the other as far as reputation and aroma goes.’‘Some novelists can concoct a place without ever having been there.For myself, though it—’‘I could probably get you in to see Adrian Pellotte,’ Marsh replied.‘If you’re looking for the flavour of Whitsun, Adrian’s pretty essential.Unique.He creates the flavour.No, he is it.’‘You’ve got access?’‘He pays me a consultant fee.What’s referred to as “a retainer”.’‘Consultant on what?’‘They’ll probably be at home now.Dean lives near Adrian.You might be able to meet both, pile up the glimpses.’‘Great!’‘But let him, or possibly Dean, start the topics.Don’t do any interrogation.They’ll tell you what they want to tell you.’‘Understood.’Marsh went to the telephone in the kitchen, shut the door and rang Pellotte.‘Someone here wanting to see you, Adrian.He called hoping I could direct him to your place.Well, I replied, “Possibly,” not knowing your view.’‘Has he got some insights?’‘What kind, Aid?’‘We’ve had an attack on the car lately – fixed now, but a nuisance.I had to use a replacement to get to the second day of a conference.’‘Unbelievable.Your personal BMW?’‘And problems arising from that.Materials taken from the boot.’‘Well, no, I don’t think this caller knows about your car and so on.’‘What then?’‘He’s interested in the estate.For a tale.’‘I think I might have heard of him.’ Pellotte went silent for a few moments.Then he said: ‘We’re watching a television awards programme.It’s live.A special friend of my daughter, Dione, is part of the team that might win.In fact, I’m sure they’ll win.’‘Exciting,’ Marsh said.‘Yes, I have a real premonition they will.’‘You’ve made contact with some of the judges, Adrian? Or Dean has?’‘But I expect it will be over by the time you get here,’ Pellotte said.‘All right.I’ll see him.’‘Thanks, Adrian.’‘How did this visitor locate you, Bert?’‘He’s done some research.Newspapers – about Gladstone.’‘Gladstone in William Walton?’ For a moment, Pellotte sounded uncomfortable.So the princely sod should.‘I was mentioned there,’ Bert said.‘Oh, Adrian, look, I said a consultancy – not just the pay-off pension re Gladstone.A retainer.It sounded better.’‘Right.What kind?’‘Like Public Relations? Quite a lot of that about these days.Devoted to tending your image, Adrian.Ensuring respect and affection.’‘Right.I’ll ring off now, Bert.The telly programme’s getting to the bit I’m interested in.’‘Fingers crossed,’ Marsh said.He returned to the lounge.‘We’ll go, then, shall we, Abel? Best take your car.It’s probably still OK.You haven’t been here long.Stupid to leave it, though
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]