Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 6 Part 2 Alicia completes the story

We arrived at the flat, and were greeted by Lucy. I said, "What time do you want to turn in, because we haven't bottomed the story of the 'script, but we could continue the day after tomorrow, if you're for going to sleep." 

"No at my age I don't seem to need much. I'd like to carry on - we can have some coffee and some malt, and finish the job properly." 

After a while she settled with a mug of black coffee and crystal glass of malt on a side table, and Lucy purring on her lap. I put the 'phone on the chair arm, hoping that the cat wouldn't make it sound as if the recording were made on the deck of a small motor yacht. 

"You'd reached the point where you and your family went to Turkey for a holiday with your uncle." 

"Yes. It was an idyllic time. That part of Turkey isn't exactly touristy. It's hot and dry and stony. In fact getting about the hills was quite difficult, certainly getting a twisted ankle was simple, so we always went out in at least threes for walks. But it was rewarding. There were all sorts of funny reptiles and insects and twiggy scrubby plants. Chris's friend, I can't remember his name, was a biologist and he would often come with us. He made it fascinating. Have you ever been on a walk with an expert and found that up to that point you've been blind and deaf to three quarters that's there?" 

I quietly agreed with her, and I could see she had caught the greater significance of the last words to herself. 

She resumed, "We loved working at the pottery and the little shop, and Chris and Jessie were brown and strong and happy. They didn't sell much, but then the workshop was small and they couldn't have made a lot more anyway. They said they kept putting the prices up and they still sold, and the seconds they sold for pennies in the village. They weren't going to be rich but they lived well, if simply, and it was a very happy existence. We made music and went to local parties and tavernas. The wine was very cheap and good, and the food if simple was good eating. 

"I remember everything was a bit Heath Robinson - there was electricity but it went off for hours at a time. Chris was in his element. He had a generator, solar panels, windmills, and all the devices and features of low energy self sufficiency. The water was often full of dirt, so he diverted a stream and made a dam for a swimming pool, as well as for water. They had a couple of acres of land, but I don't think anyone bothered about boundaries. 

"They'd sold all the cars in England except one old Daimler, which was kept very clean and shiny, and bought or made in Turkey what looked like an old American pick up. Mind you Chris used to call it his Q-car, because despite what it looked like outside, if you looked underneath or in the bonnet it gleamed, and it was appallingly fast. He used to scare us all rigid the way he drove, but I never saw him lose control. He said he couldn't go motor racing in Turkey so he had clock times for all sorts of runs around the local roads and tried to beat them. 

"I have this overall wonderful parcel of memories of fun, sun, swimming, making pots, reckless drives, rocky hillsides, wine and perfumed foods, and love and companionship between and with the adults." 

She stopped, took a draught from the malt, and stroked the cat dreamily. The contentment of the memories was there in her face. I said nothing, rather than break her reverie. 

She continued, "I know Chris was working on the manuscript because I heard the computer tapping away at night on several occasions and I would sometimes sit on his knee whilst he wrote. I expect I shall recognise some of it. It was quiet and calm with the crickets, and the bright moonlight and just the green of the screen in the room. He grew Nicotianas just under the open window of his study and the smell was wonderful. He said the electricity was better for the computer at night, but I think - sometimes when I was with him and he was writing - I felt he was desperate to finish. 

"Another time he and Daddy had some of the printout with them and were arguing over a bottle of wine until three in the morning. It was then that Daddy started on the painting, at least what you've described certainly could have been it. I think Daddy didn't finish the painting because the holiday ended. They wrote to each other regularly afterwards, and Chris and Jessie came over for a visit, but I think the book was left in Turkey. 

"That was the last I saw of Chris. He got back to Turkey and about a year later he died. Whatever he had before got him in the end. Daddy was devastated and went over to Turkey for a while. Jessie carried on the business using local talent which she trained - and as far as I know managed to carry on the good life where she was. 

"Jessie came over for father's funeral. By then she was an elderly woman but she was very impressive. Running her own business on her own gave her a snap of command, but I liked her still. She died not long after, and left the manuscript and the picture and the model to me, she wrote that I had been much in Chris's mind during part of it. However the stuff went astray and was only unearthed from a solicitor's archive in Turkey a month or so back, and I contacted you when it arrived here. So I can account for the 'script and possibly the picture, but not the model." 

"There was a period of - what a year between when you were in Turkey and your uncle died?" I asked. 

"Oh, no. It was over two years." 

"So Chris could have had it made during that time. Did he have metal working tools?" 

"What would they look like?" 

I picked up the model. "Well, he'd above all need a milling machine. That would be a floor mounted machine equipped with a horizontal table which can motor in two directions 

and up and down underneath a rotating cutting tool. There would be a lot of swarf - metal shavings - in and around on the floor. I guess a small one would be about a meter square and a meter and a half high." 

"Oh, no I didn't see anything like that. But he had room for it. The pottery and the kiln were in this huge barn. They'd built rooms inside for them and an office, and a garage for the cars. The front of the barn was the pottery shop. But there was enough space for another smallish workshop." 

"Who owns it now?" I asked. 

"Jessie willed it to Vicky and me, and so we sold it and split the money. I can probably find the sale file for you." 

We sat quiet awhile - I could see that the detailed memories caught by the trawling net of her recall of the period, were flooding in. She ought to be left with them for they were on the whole happy ones. 

"You've been very good to me. Your description has been a lovely insight into your uncle. I need to think about it. I think I should go now and see you the day after tomorrow." 

I sipped the last of my malt and rising, picked up my brief case and lap top. I snapped the 'phone shut, kissed the top of her head, stroked the cat, and said, "Don't get up - I'll see myself out - thank you again for everything - see you Thursday." 

The rain had stopped, but it was blustery, with clouds partly obscuring the quarter moon. I followed the ticket map round to the taxi rank, and one obediently took me to the Hotel. 

I put the 'phone and lap top on charge and connected the latter to the 'Net. 

It had been a long day, and I fell asleep very quickly, but I dreamed of a blue eyed Siamese cat in the hot sun hunting kaleidoscope patterned lizards in and out of scrubby bushes and grey lumpy rocks, watched by a serene lady clad in black with fizzing sun glasses.