Ah, love, let us be
true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before
us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath
really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor
peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where
ignorant armies clash by night.
Matthew Arnold
CHAPTER 30 HAMERSMITH ROAD
The bar was new. “Authentic South African,” just opened to good reviews in the free papers that got delivered around the sort of offices where people earned big bucks.
It was full of Saturday lunchtime inner city looking people. Young and on the prowl. The sort of people who thought a weekend in the country was for old people. This lot were anxious to dispose of their income. Anxious to tell everyone what a great time they had last night and what was everyone doing tonight? What was the best place to be seen? The best place to show off? The best place to raise your status with your mates? The best place to raise your own shaky self esteem?
They had of course walked here. Where would they park if they came by car? And anyway they all lived close by, in Notting Hill or Fulham or Kensington.
Alex Holder looked in and smiled. None of them know who I am, he thought. None of them know I am about to be famous. None of them know I am going to save Britain. Non of them know I am going to save the world.
Though if they knew about such things, his shoes and jacket, they could tell he was fairly well off.
“Irene?”
“Hi.” She was standing at the bar with a tall glass of lager, half heartedly fending off flirts from a few young men.
“Hallo. Well….You look good. Tanned.
“Yes. I was touring West Africa. Taking notes for the Commons Committee on The E.U Assisted, West African Lines Conference Improvement Plan.”
“Gosh. What did that do?”
“It toured all sorts of small ports wondering if they should be improved or not. Can I buy you a beer?”
“Yes. A Lion please,” said Alex. He waited while she got the barman's instant attention, a thing he found difficult, and she handed him a glass. “So are they going to be improved?”
“Don’t know. It has to be coordinated with an EU committee in Brussels. Could take years.”
“Ah.”
“Shall we grab that table by the air conditioning before someone else does?”
“Right.” Alex followed her over.
Irene turned around as she walked so Alex was looking at the silhouette of her bust and face. “I met an old Boss of mine out there. He was a colonel when I was a civil servant. Now he is delivering boats to people.”
“Right.” Alex glanced over her shoulder and down her cleavage as she sat and he pushed her chair in.
“So what is it you’re dyeing to tell me?” she asked
“They are going to build my ship.” Alex sat opposite “They actually like the design. Well not actually build it. It’s the Aurora Consortium. They want to do a proper design study and enter it for a Government tender. I am going to be paid as a consultant.”
“Wow. Alex. That’s wonderful.” She reached over the table and touched his hand.
He looked straight into her eyes, and remembered, everything she had ever meant to him. “Yeah. Wonderful.”
She glanced away. “What about the intellectual property rights?”
“You are on the ball. I’ve had the family lawyers look at it. The thing is that practically non of it is my idea. I just pulled it together. There’s nothing I could actually patent, but Aurora are going to assume I have a registered design and of course copy write on my original paper. So I’ll be paid for that.”
“Good.”
“Yes”
They looked at each other with wild hunger, remembering their ideal past and wanting more.
“Well.” She held his hand.
“Yes,” said Alex. “Are we eating here?”
“I suppose.”
“Do you live far away?”
“No.”
“Right”
“It’s just down the
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