The Grin of the Dark

Many comedies lost footage to the Board when it called itself a censor. One of Keaton's films was cut, two of Harold Lloyd's were shortened, as well as three Chaplins, four with the Marx Brothers and five that starred Laurel and Hardy. Tubby beat them all, however. Not only were Tubby's Troublesome Trousers and Telescopic Thrill and Telepathic Tricks censored to an unrecorded extent, but every film with his name in the title from 1918 onwards was refused a certificate.

I'll add the information to the movie database once my book has been published, but I've another reason to visit the site. When I check Willie Hart's page, an agent is indeed listed in the sidebar. I email Hart via the agent to ask for help in reviving grandfather Orville's reputation, and then I'm drawn to Tubby's page. There's a reply from Smilemime on the message board.

I've no idea who Questionabble Attribution thinks he is if he's even a he. Funny that I've never seen a post from him before, at least not named Leslie Stone. Let's all wait while he reads the title at the top of the page. It's T.u.b.b.y.s. T.i.n.y. T.u.b.b.i.e.s. Tripplets means there's three alright, because it comes from tripple, but it means babies, and they aren't babies in the film. Hey, maybe that's why it isn't called Tripplets. Maybe Mr Questionabble has never seen the film as well. Maybe Mr Questionabble should leave posting on here to people that know about films.

I don't think this deserves more than a laugh in response. If Smilemime is spreading misinformation about Tubby, that will make my book more useful when it's published. I'm muffling a hearty chuckle for fear that Joe might want to know why I'm amused when my mobile strikes up its tune. As I lift it to my ear a man demands 'Is that the university?'

'It isn't, sorry.'

'You said it was.' Before I can deny this I'm more bewildered to be asked 'Who did you say you were again?'

'I didn't, but I'm Simon Lester.'

'That's who you said. The university man. What are you after?'

I recognise him now. I've heard his voice on tape – on Those Golden Years of Fun and his answering machine – but he sounds older. 'Mr Tracy? Thanks for calling back. I saw your compilation. I'd love to discuss Tubby Thackeray if you can spare the time.'

'Discuss.' His faint Lancashire accent grows stronger and flatter as he says 'You said an interview.'

'Whichever you prefer.'

'The one as pays most.'

'Do you have a figure in mind?'

'Don't go thinking I've got time to chuck away,' Tracy warns, though I'm not aware of suggesting that he has. 'We're booked for months, me and my projector. There's still folks that want to watch old films that way, not on telly where they were never meant to be watched.' Perhaps he realises this rather contradicts his involvement with Those Golden Years of Fun, because he adds more sharply 'You can have me for three hundred. That's my price for an afternoon.'

'It'll be fine,' I say, since my publishers will cover it.

'You'll need to come up here.'

From his tone I could almost think that he's trying to deter me. 'When would be convenient?'

'Tomorrow. Better catch me while I'm in the mood. I'll be putting on shows for the rest of the week.'

This is surely my cue to ask 'Do you show Tubby Thackeray films?'

'You reckon I should show kids and their parents and old folk.'

'I don't see why not on the basis of the one that's in your film. Have you managed to collect any others?'

'You're not recording me, are you? Is this some of your interview?'

'No, I was just – '

'You're not recording.' This isn't merely a statement, because he says 'Leave the grilling till tomorrow so I can see you're not. And I'll want cash.'

'Could I at least ask which film of Tubby's is on your tape?'

'I thought you saw it. It said.'

'The soundtrack's worn on my copy,' I say and grin without amusement at the rest of the truth.

'You ought to be able to figure it out if you know about him.'

'I'd have guessed I was watching the terrible triplets.'

'Don't know why you bothered asking, then.' He sounds suspicious, and more so as he says 'Where'd you find it?'

'On the Internet. I'd have bought it from you if I'd known I could. In fact, can I still?'

'Why would you want to do that?'

'I've managed to erase the part I need. Don't ask me how.'

'Don't look at me. You're the only man I know that's got it.'

I can't believe he hasn't kept a copy. 'Why is it so rare?'

'Ask the bunch that put my film out. They put out stuff that got them in trouble.'

'Yours wouldn't have, surely.'

'They never bothered getting a certificate, so they had to sign it away as well. Let the police take the lot and didn't even hire a lawyer because they were scared it would cost too much.' Tracy laughs with little humour as he says 'It's not the first time Tubby's stuff came up against the law.'

'Why, when – '

'I've said enough for nothing. I told you, keep it for tomorrow. I'll pick you up at the station if you tell me when. Watch out for the virus.'

'Sorry, how was that again?'

'Keep your eyes peeled for the mumps,' he says with a giggle only just distinguishable from static, and leaves me to my confusion.

I call up train timetables on the screen and see the joke. There's a station called Oldham Mumps. The journey from Egham takes nearly six hours and involves five changes of train. Perhaps I should give driving another try. Perhaps I would have persevered when I was a teenager if the task hadn't been so much more complicated and demanding than the games with cars I'd played on the computer. I ring Tracy to tell him that I should arrive shortly after one, but he's either elsewhere or not answering. Having informed his machine of my plans, I return to the movie database.

Sorry to bring facts into the argument, but the compiler of Those Golden Years of Fun confirms I was right. My name isn't what you said, by the way. Not even my screen name.

Is that too sarcastic? Not by comparison with Smilemime's gibes, and I've sent my answer now. I don't expect to hear from him again, but if I do my book can be the answer. He has been enough of a distraction from my work. At least he can't do it tomorrow, and I leave him with another laugh.

TEN - MOORS

On the train from Euston I have to sit opposite an intrusively lanky teenager who chortles for almost three hours at some game on his laptop. His feet are too big as well. I might find more distraction in the landscape, even though it's dulled by the featureless grey sky, if I weren't facing away from the engine. I keep feeling that the journey I haven't completed is already rewinding before my eyes. By the time I reach Manchester Piccadilly I've had enough of trains for a while, and walk across town to Victoria Station as fast as I can dodge and sidle through the lunchtime crowds. If anyone were staffing the barrier I suspect they would tell me I'm too late, but I dash to the last carriage and clamber in and slam the door as the train comes to life. I've sprawled panting on the nearest seat, and office workers at computers are sailing past on both sides of me, when my phone strikes up. 'Hello?' I gasp with half a breath.

'You sound surprised, or is it worried?'

'Neither.' I take a deep breath in order to tell Tracy 'So long as you aren't calling to cancel.'

'Why do you reckon I'd be doing that?'

'I don't.'

Rather than ask if he is I fall silent, and he demands 'Did you send me a message?'

'I left you the time I'll be arriving.'

'That's all you've left.' When I confirm it Tracy says 'Where are you?'

The train is racing a tram on the road below. 'Leaving Manchester,' I assume.

'Get off at the one after next.'