I could feel the emotions welling up inside me, like huge waves breaking on a stony beach. Like the wind, rushing into the mouth of a cave. Like thunder, crashing over an open plain. Like an orange turnip dancing on a cow’s nest in a handbag factory.
‘He doesn’t look bad for a dead bloke,’ said Norman.
‘Eh? No, he doesn’t. Especially for a man who was blown into little pieces.’
‘It’s mostly padding, you know. They only managed to salvage his head and his right hand. Here look, I’ll open his collar. You can see where his severed neck is stitched on to the-’
‘Don’t you dare.’ I pulled Norman’s hand away. ‘But he is dead, isn’t he? I thought that it might be a dummy or something.’
‘They fingerprinted the hand,’ said Norman. ‘And even if he was prepared to lose a hand in order to fake his own death, I think that losing his head might be going over the top a bit.’
I sighed. ‘Then that’s it. The Doveston is dead. The end of an era. The end of a long, if troubled, friendship.’ I reached into my jacket and brought out a packet of cigarettes. This I slipped into the Doveston’s breast pocket.
‘Nice sentiment,’ said Norman. ‘Something for his spirit to smoke on the other side.’
I nodded solemnly.
‘Pity they’re not his own brand, though,’ said Norman with a grin. ‘That will really piss him off.’
The funeral was grim. They always are. At the service, numerous celebrities came forward to offer eulogies or recite really awful poems. Elton John had sent his apologies (he was having his hair done), but they had managed to employ the services of an ex-member of the Dave Clark Five, who sang their great hit ‘Bits and Pieces’.
The actual laying to rest was not without its moments. Especially when, as we were trying to get the coffin into the rowing boat, the vicar fell in the water.
‘You bloody pushed him,’ I whispered to Norman. ‘I saw you. Don’t deny it.’
And then it was all back to the big house for drinks and fags and snuff and cakes and a lot of polite conversation about what an all-round good egg the Doveston had been.
Oh yes, and the reading of the will.
‘I’m off home,’ I whispered to Norman. ‘There won’t be anything in it for me.’
‘You might be surprised. I witnessed his will, after all.’
‘If it turns out to be a signed photograph, I will punch your lights out.’
I’d seen the Doveston’s solicitor before. We weren’t on speaking terms, but I had some amazing footage of him on video tape. So I knew what he was wearing under his jolly smart suit.
There were at least fifty of us there, seated in the great hall, facing the table that had so recently supported the coffin. Most of those present were strangers to me, but I imagined that they must be the Doveston’s relatives. It’s only weddings and funerals that bring these buggers out.
‘So,’ said the solicitor, seating himself behind the great table, secretly adjusting his corset as he did so. ‘This is a very sad time for us all. Indeed for the entire nation. England has lost one of her most notable and best-loved sons. I do not think that his like will ever be seen here again.’
‘He nicked that line,’ said Norman.
‘Yes, but not from you.
‘There are a number of bequests to charities and trusts,’ the solicitor continued. ‘But these need not concern us here. You’ll no doubt read all about them in the newspapers, as soon as the details have been officially leaked. What concerns us here is the major part of the estate, the house and grounds, the business interests, the capital.’
‘Now, first things first. The Great Millennial Ball. The Doveston has left specific instructions that the ball must go ahead. It will be held in his honour and hosted by his inheritor. I say inheritor, rather than —tors, because there is only one. This one person must host the Great Millennial Ball in the exact manner the Doveston planned it, or forfeit the inheritance. Is this understood?’
People nodded. I didn’t bother. ‘Your lights are about to be punched,’ I told Norman.
‘The sole inheritor of the Doveston’s fortune is...’ The solicitor paused for effect. Necks craned forward, breaths were held.
‘Is...’ He produced a small golden envelope from his top pocket and opened it carefully.
Norman nudged me in the ribs. ‘Exciting, isn’t it? This was written into the will.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Is...’ The solicitor glanced at the card. ‘My bestest friend—’
Norman jumped up. ‘Well what a surprise. I wasn’t expecting this.’
‘Edwin,’ said the solicitor.
Norman sat down. ‘Only kidding,’ he said. ‘I told you you might be surprised.’
They brought me round with the contents of a soda siphon.
I was sorry that I’d fainted, because I missed the punch-up. Some people can be very sour losers. Apparently Norman started it.
‘I can’t believe it.’ I gasped, spitting soda. ‘He’s left everything to me.’
‘You’re the new Laird of Bramfield,’ said Norman. ‘How does it feel?’
‘I’m rich,’ I replied. ‘I’m a multi-multi-multi-millionaire.’
‘Lend us a quid then,’ said Norman.
I was really shaking as I signed all the forms the solicitor gave me. Norman kept a close eye over my shoulder, just to make sure that I didn’t sign anything dodgy. The solicitor gave Norman a very bitter look and tucked several sheets of paper back into his briefcase.
‘There,’ I said, when I’d done. ‘I’m done.’
The solicitor smiled an ingratiating smile. ‘I trust, sir,’ said he, ‘that you will retain the services of our company.’
‘Bollocks!’ I said. ‘On your bike.’
Norman shooed the solicitor out and then returned to me. ‘So,’ said Norman, ‘your lairdship, would you like me to show you around your new home?’
I took snuff from a silver bowl and pinched it to my nose. ‘I’ve seen all the house,’ I said. ‘I decorated most of it myself.’
‘There must be something you’d like to see.
‘Ah, yes, there is.’ I sneezed.
‘Bless you,’ said Norman.
‘I would like to see the secret laboratories. See what he’s really been getting up to all these years. All that stuff about the Great Work. All the genetic engineering. All the concocting of strange mind-altering drugs.’
‘Oh yes,’ said Norman, rubbing his hands together. ‘I’d like to see all that too.’
‘Then lead me to them.’
‘Certainly,’ said Norman. ‘Which way are they?’
I made the face that says ‘come on now’. ‘Come on now,’ I said. ‘You’ve got your set of keys. You know everything there is to know about this house.’
‘You’re right there,’ said Norman. ‘So which way are they then?’
‘Norman,’ I said. ‘Don’t jerk me about. You know I’ll see you all right. You can consider that from this minute you are a millionaire too.’
‘Oh, no thanks,’ said Norman. ‘I don’t need any money.
‘You don’t?’
‘No, I’ve got all I need to keep going. Although...’
‘Although?’
‘I could do with another box of Meccano.’
‘It’s yours. A van load. Now where are the secret laboratories?’
‘I give up,’ said Norman. ‘Where are they?’
‘All right then.’ I took a pinch of snuff from another bowl and poked it up my hooter. ‘We’ll just have to search for them. Where do you think we should start?’
Norman shrugged. ‘How about his office? There might be secret plans hidden away.’
‘What a very good idea.’