‘You’ve seen it, Mr Mackenzie?’
‘Heavens no. So far Canon Slater is the only person to have seen it — and read it. And what he has read does not make him think any better of his late father.’
‘It is scandalous, is it?’ said Tom, quite awake now.
"Bad and dangerous’ was the expression used by Felix Slater in a letter to me. I’m not sure whether he was referring to his father or to the contents of the manuscript or both.’
‘Surely if old Mr Slater is dead and if he lived a respectable life these many years, then there can’t be much harm in an account that reaches back half a century? And if he went to the trouble of writing his early history then he must have intended it to be read or even published.’
‘Do you keep a diary, Tom?’
‘No.’
‘That’s wise. I speak as a lawyer who is cautious about what he commits to paper. Some would say it’s a woman’s habit, anyway. People write up their diaries every day but many would be horrified to think of them being seen by any other eyes.’
‘Well then, if Canon Slater is so disturbed by this document, why doesn’t he just destroy it? Burn it.’
‘Here we come to the nub of the matter. Felix Slater may not have much time for his father’s memory or much patience with the brother who presently lives on the family estate. But he does look on himself as the inheritor of tradition, a repository of all that’s best in the Slater family. His grandfather — that is George’s father — was apparently a devout and upright man, a churchman like Felix. And Felix has a nephew, the son of Percy, who is also a man of the cloth. So the Canon regards himself and his nephew as being in the family line while his father and brother are the aberrations. All this is to say that he has a respect for what is handed down to him. He would not consider destroying this legacy of his father. It may not represent the best in the Slater line, it may even be among the worst things, but Felix can’t bring himself to burn it. Nor does he wish to consult his brother Percy, who should rightfully have some say in the matter.’
‘So what does Canon Slater want to do with it?’ said Tom, clearer now about where the conversation was heading.
‘Why, he wants us to take charge of the manuscript and keep it safe in our vaults with instructions that it should remain sealed up.’
‘Never to be opened?’
‘This is what you have to discuss, Tom. Felix is clear that he does not wish the manuscript to stay in his house in the Salisbury close. He does not want his wife to stumble across it by chance nor his nephew, who lodges with him. However, he has hinted that the account might be made available to his descendants when he is dead and gone.’
‘He has children?’
‘No children but there is the nephew. I think that Felix is content that his father’s history should remain under lock and key until an appropriate period of time has passed. The decision to open and read it can be left to Walter — that is his nephew and Percy’s son — when he is older. What you must discuss is what is meant by an appropriate period, and of course take charge of the manuscript and bring it back to our office safe and intact. It is a mundane errand, if you like, but one that requires tact and discretion.’
‘It sounds. . interesting,’ said Tom.
‘You have visited Salisbury?’
‘Never.’
‘An attractive place. I can recommend a hostelry called The Side of Beef near Poultry Cross in the middle of town. I’ve stayed there on my visits. Get Mr Ashley to give you the particulars. He will also give you details of your appointment with Canon Slater. In the meantime I’ve written a letter which you should give Slater to smooth your way.’
He picked up anenvelope from the table by his side and held it out. Tom tucked it carefully into his jacket. He wondered whether this was the sign for him to leave but Mackenzie wanted to talk. Perhaps he was missing the conviviality of work for he said, ‘Now, how are things at the office?’
‘I believe Mr Ashley has everything well in hand,’ said Tom. ‘Mr Lye was in yesterday.’
‘And the Scotts? How are they?’
Tom was momentarily thrown by the question and saw David Mackenzie’s grin of pleasure.
‘Come on, Mr Ansell, I know that you are a regular visitor to a particular house in Highbury. Mrs Mackenzie is good friends with Mrs Scott and she hears all the news. The ladies do, you know. Helen Scott is an attractive young woman, isn’t she?’
Tom considered the lie that he hadn’t really noticed whether Helen was attractive then said, ‘Very. I do call there from time to time, yes, and they are well. Mother and daughter are well.’
‘I won’t ask you your intentions. But I remember Helen when she was just so high. An imaginative and inventive young woman, too.’
Inventive? Tom remembered Helen’s speculations about her neighbour Mrs Montgomery and the man who was not Mr Montgomery. He wondered whether Mackenzie had an inkling of Helen’s attempt to write a sensation novel. But it wasn’t for him to give the game away so he merely nodded.
The two continued chatting for a while until David Mackenzie signalled that the session was over by picking up the back-scratcher once more. While probing beneath the plaster cast, he wished Tom good fortune on his Salisbury errand and Tom wished him a speedy recovery.
Tom Ansell retraced his steps down the stairs to the baronial-looking hall. Mrs Mackenzie emerged from its depths.
‘Ah, Mr Ansell. How is the old boy upstairs?’
‘Mr Mackenzie seems well, all things considered.’
Mary Mackenzie looked at Tom quizzically and he remembered that she was friendly with Mrs Scott, Helen’s mother. That must be how she had known that his father was in the army.
‘Did he bend your ear about the Claimant case? I’ve heard of nothing but the Claimant case morning, noon and night.’
‘Would you be surprised to hear, Mrs Mackenzie, that all of London hears of nothing but the Claimant case?’
She smiled in recognition of the phrase. ‘Would you be surprised to hear’ had been an expression frequently used by the Tichbourne family’s counsel in the first trial. It had caught on with the public for no discernible reason, and was even turning up in music-hall songs.
‘Good, Mr Ansell. I am pleased to see that you can make a joke. I shouldn’t want to take you altogether for a dry lawyer.’
Tom should have felt condescended to but he found himself warming to Mrs Mackenzie. It crossed his mind that she was preferable to the dragonish Mrs Scott and that she might put in a good word for him in the Scott household. Then the sour-faced Bea appeared holding Tom’s hat and coat and, saying goodbye to his employer’s wife, he left the house.
It was almost dark outside, what with the hour and the fog that, rather than shifting away altogether, had risen up from the London basin. Tom walked past the dripping laurels and into the street where an elderly lamp-lighter was at work causing sudden blooms of yellow to erupt through the haze. It was only when Tom had walked a couple of hundred yards that he recalled the ‘errand’ with which he’d been entrusted by Mr Mackenzie. Until that point his mind had been full of Helen. Collecting a ‘manuscript’ did not sound a very demanding task. He put it out of his mind again and thought instead of Miss Scott.
West Walk
Tom woke with a thick head the morning after his arrival in Salisbury. He’d had a restless night in the four-poster in The Side of Beef, with a dream of struggling to gather up scattered sheets of paper from a railway line that stretched across a bare plain. He was acutely aware that the longer his task took the more likely was a train to thunder down on him. He could hear a kind of rattling along the rails.
Then, in time with the rattling, came a series of knocks at the door of his room and a woman entered with a jug of warm water for him to shave and asked if she should draw the curtains. Tom recognized her nasal voice and visualized her mournful eyes. He muttered to her to leave the curtains and tried to get back to sleep. But he abandoned the attempt after a few moments, got up and went across to the window.