The Orpheus Trail (22 page)

Someone, Lisa I suppose, had put a newspaper on my desk
detailing
the rape of the antiquities of Mesopotamia – Iraq, the sale of ancient sites of two-thousand-year-old mud brick buildings to be melted down to make new bricks, and of all the beautiful and
priceless
objects that came back into the light of day as a result of
potholing
and demolition. I thought how distressed Jack would have been and was glad he couldn’t see this latest grotesque act, destroying all traces of the oldest of civilisations to build new fast food takeaways and shopping malls.

The evening before our grand opening I gathered the staff together for a celebratory drink. The schools had already broken up for the summer holidays so I had decided to site the exhibition in what was usually the Discovery Centre, a special education resource in term time with SID, the database of local photographs, concentrating on our Victorian collection. The planetarium showed the night sky on 15 August 1890. After all, although the stars might have moved a bit, they were still fundamentally the same.

Lisa had solicited the Kursaal for help with the end of pier
entertainments
. There was traditional fairground hurdygurdy music accompanying the slowly revolving carousel of painted cocks, and gilt horses with flowing, carved manes and flaring nostrils riding their barley sugar poles. When the show was switched on by Lord
Rochford
the music would start the carousel and the Laughing Policeman, Aunt Sally and their friends would burst into jolly laughter and pop out from behind the curtains on their boxes. Off would go the toy train from a replica Victoria Station and SID’s screen would light up with the photos and posters of a day at the seaside a century ago. We gave Lisa a burst of applause and the bottle of Waitrose Chardonnay went round again.

In the morning I was up early so that Caesar and I could get through
what had become our morning ritual of putting down his food and water for the day and cleaning up the cat tray. He had accepted his incarceration and no longer pawed at the cat flap, looking up at me with a theatrically pitiful cry to be let out.

Phoebe had already metaphorically opened up the shop. ‘Nice day, Mr Kish. The sun’s come out for us.’

I glanced in at the Discovery Centre on the way to my office. All was still as if the exhibition was holding its breath for the moment to spring into life. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down to work on the annual report, now almost complete. I wondered whether, when it was finished and the exhibition over its inevitable teething problems, I could take a few days off and persuade Hilary to come away for our first holiday together. Surely we would be safe in Paris or Prague, the first places that came to mind. I sat day-dreaming a little, until Lisa opened the door.

‘The drinks and snacks for the VIPs are all ready. I thought we’d adjourn as soon as the chairman finishes thanking Lord Rochford.’

‘Let’s hope he doesn’t go on too long. Once he gets into his stride he can’t be stopped.’

‘What’s his lordship like? Have you met him?’

‘Once. Young, Labour life peer. Local boy, hence the title. One of the few IT companies that didn’t crash when the first ‘dot com’ bubble burst, though not in the Bill Gates league of course. Sits on the
Parliamentary
Science and Technology Committee. I hope he doesn’t think the whole concept is too…

‘Old-fashioned?’

‘I expect he’d call it analogue. I just hope he sees the development of science and technology as a continuum not something that sprang up overnight by courtesy of the first computer.’

Phoebe put her head round the door. ‘There’s a man from
The Echo
, Mr Kish. Says he’d like a statement from you.’

‘Tell him to talk to me afterwards, Phoebe.’ It was too early to dig out the usual platitudes about our heritage and the value of a sense of history to society, even though I believed them. A feeling of
weariness
washed over me. I wanted the event to begin and then be over. I clung to a fragment of my dream of a time away from it all with Hilary,
however brief. I only hoped I hadn’t left it too late to book Caesar in to his usual holiday home.

Lisa went off to check on the final arrangements, Phoebe to unlock the front door and wave through early arrivals. It was time for me to go to the staff washroom and make myself as tidy as possible. The chairman wasn’t a fashionable open-necked shirt proponent. I stood up. Then the door opened and there was Hildreth. I had forgotten his threat to attend.

‘All ready for the grand opening, Alex. I’d like a little chat after if you’ve a moment.’

‘I’ll try,’ I said. ‘But I’ll have to chat up the chairman and Lord Rochford first. And then the local paper wants an interview.’

‘Not to worry. I’ll just hang about. Good luck.’ He shut the door quietly but firmly behind him. I gave him a few moments to get clear then followed him out, now desperately needing to get to the
washroom
and suddenly understanding what it might be like to piss
yourself
under stress. And yet he had said nothing alarming. It was just his presence that made me uneasy.

I took up my place in the entrance hall, poised to greet the chairman and Lord Rochford as they arrived. The chairman was first, rubbing his palms together as if to make sure they were suitable to shake hands with his lordship. The invited public were arriving in dribs and drabs. Some I had to greet with different degrees of warmth, others I could just nod to as they passed.

The Bateses were there as representatives of the local historical society. Harry’s wartime relic of a Flying Officer Kite moustache was neatly trimmed and combed to compensate for the tanned dome of his head and Jean still showed a trim ankle in high-heeled court shoes though they must both be in their eighties.

‘Thank you for coming,’ I said, shaking their hands in turn.

‘A bit late for us’, Harry said, ‘the Victorians. But we wanted to show support.’ His camera dangled round his neck. ‘Just take a few pictures for the newsletter.’

The chairman had moved away to stand expectantly inside the door apart from the local riff-raff as he probably saw them. I walked over to stand beside him. The trickle of last-minute comers dried
up, ushered into the Discovery Centre by Phoebe and Reg, its usual curator. I could hear the buzz behind us as the chairman and I stood side by side, shifting slightly and looking out expectantly. I’d seen the same sort of body language from civil servants waiting for the minister to arrive at a conference on local archives I’d attended in Westminster.

Suddenly there was a flurry and Lisa appeared, followed at a smart pace by a dark-haired, dark-suited man about my own age, and close behind him a young woman in light jacket and skirt who was either his wife or his PA. No one had warned me which. The chairman stepped forward. ‘So good of you to do this, Kevin.’

‘My pleasure, Ted.’

‘This is the museum’s director, Alex Kish.’

‘I thought we could just step into my office for a moment to agree the running order,’ I said as I shook hands. I led them towards my room.

‘Can I get you anything?’ I asked, not knowing how he liked to be addressed. ‘Tea, coffee?’

‘I’m fine. Some water might be useful. I seem to have woken up with the start of a summer cold. Got in rather a sweat running last evening.’

‘Of course. I’ll make sure there’s water there.’

‘Right,’ the chairman said. ‘I’ve got my speech here.’

‘I’ll say a few words to introduce you, chairman. Then if you could say a little bit about the service here and the particular relevance of a Victorian seaside exhibition. About ten minutes I think we agreed.’

‘Yes, yes. I’ve cut it down.’

‘Then you introduce Lord Rochford and hand over to him.’

‘I’ll just say how pleased I am to be here,’ Rochford said. ‘
Something
about how I used to be brought here as a kid. And then press the button and bingo. You’ll show me where it is before we start.’

I tried a joke. ‘All a bit Heath Robinson rather than PowerPoint but at least it’s in period.’

‘Shall we get on with it then. Drinks after, Kish?!’

‘At the back of the room, if you don’t mind,’ I turned to Lord Rochford. ‘I’m afraid people like the celebrity to mingle a bit.’

‘That’s fine. I’m well trained. I imagine a donation from my company would be useful. I looked up your website.’

‘We’d be extremely grateful,’ I said, leading the way back into the entrance hall and through to the Discovery Centre, the buzz dying away as we entered, except for the usual one or two too intent on their conversations to notice.

We walked along the aisle between the flanking rows of seats to the little dais at the front with its three chairs and low table, on which I was relieved to see three glasses and a bottle of fizzy water, and the lectern for the speakers.

‘There’s the button you press,’ I said, pointing it out to Lord
Rochford
. ‘Let’s hope we don’t have a power cut at the crucial moment.’

We took our seats at the back. I poured out some water for us all and then stood up and moved to the lectern.

‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming. I hope this microphone is working’. I tapped it for the reassuring echo. ‘Can you hear me at the back?’ There were some murmurs of ‘yes’, and we were off. I heard my own voice mouthing a few banalities and then brought my part to a close with ‘So here is our chairman who will introduce our distinguished guest, Lord Rochford, to open this year’s summer exhibition.’ I sat down as the chairman strode to the lectern as if about to quell a riot or admonish the guilty.

Looking out over the attentive faces I let my mind wander, not hearing his words. Whatever he said there was nothing now I could do to unsay or prevent it. It was better to switch off and deal with the flak later. Harry Bates wasn’t listening either but snapping away at the exhibits. Suddenly at the back of the room I saw Hildreth’s black curly head of hair like that of a young bullock and looked away hastily in case he caught my eye.

The applause signalled the end of the chairman’s speech.
Nervously
, I would have prayed whatever gods that the electrics might work. He stretched out an arm to wave Lord Rochford forward to the microphone. Rochford began on his childhood memories, obviously a seasoned performer, I saw his hand hovering over the button. Would it all work? I caught sight of Lisa’s anxious face where she stood just inside the door.

‘And so it gives me great pleasure to declare “A Victorian Day at the Seaside” open.’ His hand came down. There was a burst of music, the little train began to rush, the horses went up and down on the carousel, the curtains parted and the Laughing Policeman and Aunt Sally came rocking into view, laughing raucously. And then a gasp, a kind of yelp, went up from the audience and a loud buzz of
conversation
broke out. Aunt Sally was gone. The figure that had been
projected
forward in her place, backed by the mocking laughter, was that of a dead boy, his face smeared with what looked like blood where Aunt Sally’s red cheeks should have been, under the incongruity of her black hat.

With great presence of mind Rochford hit the button again, the music died and everything came to a standstill. I was aware of
Hildreth
forcing his way to the front and stepping up to the lectern.

‘I am a police officer. Everyone please sit down for a moment. There’s no danger to you all, the public that is, but nothing must be disturbed. Alex, will your people please get everybody out now, a row at a time, starting from the back. Your names and addresses will be taken down outside in case we need to ask you questions later. Will you two gentlemen stay behind, please. I’ve called for some of the local police. They should be here shortly.’

The two figures of the real boy and the Laughing Policeman had been caught, half in and half out of their stalls. My staff moved forward with the discipline learnt from our fire drill practices for evacuating the public. Only I seemed to be paralysed. Until the chairman hissed at me under his breath like some villain in a Victorian melodrama: ‘I’ll expect your resignation for this.’

Even the unfairness of his words failed to rouse me. Sleepwalking, I moved forward to the familiar comfort of helping Lisa and others clear the building. Hildreth came over to exchange brief words with the first of the local police to arrive.

‘Can we use your room, Alex?’

‘Of course.’

He turned to the chairman and Lord Rochford. ‘If you would,
gentlemen
.’ He ushered them out of the room. Those in the audience were filing quietly outside where they clustered in the entrance, exchanging
shocked views, as uniformed police moved from group to group taking down names and addresses.

I could see it all through the open door as I followed Hildreth and the others but it was as if I was walking through some nightmare, a numb unreality with the sensation that my ears were full of water and sound came through filtered as in a dream.