Before 24 Billion and Counting

Chapter 10 The Turkish trail - part one.

The next morning I felt distinctly flat. I had hoped to find the hotel at The Holy Oaks, with some form of history and continuity of business. The ruin that it had become had been a sad surprise. Contemporaries of Chris there were none. I downloaded the digital camera into the laptop and checked the quality of the images. They were good so there was now little to keep me here. 

I decided to return to London. If Alicia were in I would look at her photographs, otherwise I would play tourist. I breakfasted, checked out and drove to Manchester. 

I handed the car in to Avis, and thanked them for the extra service, and took a train into London, due to arrive at about twelve. I telephoned Alicia as promised at ten, using the corridor of the train to avoid the tasteless intrusion of telephone conversations into the passenger space. I told her of the ruin of Holy Oaks, and the dismantled windmills. 

She was silent for a while - then she sighed, "I am getting old, things I knew not only have changed, but are gone - outlived their usefulness. If this happens to me too often I shall feel the same." 

"Don't be sad - the moors are the same - better - their peace has returned. The grouse can be heard. And Holy Oaks didn't outlive its usefulness. It was prematurely killed by blind bureaucracy and ignorance. We who are left must keep that message alive so that perhaps it doesn't happen again. Are you free at any time after say one?" 

"Yes. I'm out at the studio, but I return at two. What do you want?" 

"I want to go through your photos, and it looks like a two hour job." 

"Come at two and cheer me up. Coffee'll be on." 

I phoned The White House, and booked a room there for the night. 

At Alicia's it was as she said. The coffee was ready. I went through the albums. My strategy was to find some photographs of Holy Oaks and working either side of them ask Alicia about what I saw. 

I hit gold dust in the fourth album. There was Holy Oaks and an early middle aged couple standing in front of a old silver-grey Daimler. I described them to Alicia but it was a fair bet that this was Chris and Jessie, and so it was. There was a photo of Chris with a keyboard which Alicia recognised, and another with a computer. The computer looked like a terminal to a network. Alicia put me right. It was a desktop but Chris kept the processor and drive unit on a shelf under the table. I recognised rooms within the bungalow from what I'd seen through the windows. There were interior views of Holy Oaks with elaborate plaster ceilings to be seen. 

After the two hours I had twenty pieces of paper marking photographs related to Chris and Jessie's life in Burnley. I had also identified Benjamin, Mary - that was Alicia's mother, and Vicky, and marked them, together with family group combinations, which linked them all together with Alicia. I also had identified photographs of Chris and Jessie at Alicia's childhood home. I found pictures of the pottery, and the Q-car, fewer than I would have expected for such a memorable holiday as described by Alicia. I queried this. 

"I think Daddy was using a new color camcorder more then. Vicky's children had the videos. I could get them if you need them." 

"No - it's not important - there's enough here." 

I numbered the photos and their positions in the volumes, and quickly got to the copy shop we'd used for the manuscript. The color copier soon provided another print for me of the thirty two photos. I wasn't bothered about the security copies this time. 

Another hour and I had transcribed notes on the copies trying as near as I could to establish dates with Alicia. 

As I slipped the photos back into their pockets, I asked Alicia if she would like to have dinner, but she said she was already booked. I said, "This will likely be the last time I'll be in London this trip. I'll have to go back home from Turkey. But I'll keep in touch by 'phone."