I had a few minutes to pass while Ian Devine drove over
to pick me up and I decided not to waste them. I walked inconspicuously
over to what I had observed was a book display. They had, by error or
omission, neglected to exhibit a copy of my latest work – a monograph
entitled "Who Pays the Piper? – A Detailed Analysis of How Much of Your
Licence Fee Was Given To Billie Piper In Exchange For Her Dropping Hs and
Being Working Class". Since I happened to have a copy in my satchel it
seemed churlish not to donate it to their shelves. On the way to the book
department I filled in yet another Club Card application, ducked behind a
cardboard motion picture star in an effort not to be seen by Bowden Cliff
– the most boring man in Bendaton – and fell head first into a freezer
cabinet after slipping on a small quantity of standing water.
I placed my masterpiece upon the shelf and made a sly
getaway. Or as sly a getaway as one can make before being interrupted by
the phrase,
"Can I interest sir in a Club Card?"
"Yes" I replied and we went through the procedure yet
again.
I was extremely relieved when I saw Ian Devine's mauve
Beetle appear out of the dawn mists. He didn't have his headlights on (a
very sensible economy in my opinion) so I only saw him as he was about to
bump into my legs. He wound his window down and beamed at me.
"Hop in, Dennis Brent" he said cordially, pressing the 'start' button on
his meter.
"Thank you, Ian Devine" I replied. I was just about to grab the handle
when his car juddered and crawled forwards. Rather like Bignell's car had
sped away but with the handicap of Ian Devine's enormity holding the car
back.
"Have you run mad, Ian Devine?" I demanded.
"Ho ho ho" he laughed. "So it is true - Bignell telephoned me to say he
had japed you and I disbelieved him. I said you were not so gullible to
fall for so childish a gag. I will be writing to him to apologise for my
doubting his word."
"Hmph" I said and I meant it to sting. It was bad enough that Bignell had
japed me without him telling everyone I knew. I would be the laughing
stock of sensible circles and I knew it. Although I was cross with Ian
Devine I was aware that his meter was running so I grasped the door handle
to make good my departure. His car spluttered forward again.
"Ho ho ho" he chuckled, his Beetle shaking like a Beetle shaped raspberry
jelly. "This is too richly comic."
"Ian Devine, I have as good a sense of humour as any man alive. Did I not
roar when Nicholas Courtney was telling his eye patch story at the '87
DWAT social event and his mistakenly said that "Katy" was present instead
of "Carrie"?"
"You did, Dennis Brent, I remember you roaring."
"So that is an example of a richly comic thing. You lurching forward
whenever I try to get in your car because that wretch Bignell told you
he'd done it a couple of times..."
"I heard it was actually six times" said Ian Devine unnecessarily.
"Be that as it may, Bignell is simply a prole who happens to have found a
few pieces of irrelevant paper in one or two of the lesser telehistorical
archives. He is not some kind of comedian who should be admired or
emulated."
"I feel suitably chastised" said a contrite Ian Devine. "I will not only
let you board my automobile but I will reset my meter."
"Thank you" I told him. I pulled the door handle and his Beetle hopped.
"You weren't trying to jape me again were you?" I asked when my seatbelt
was fastened.
"No no" he said, avoiding eye contact, "It was a complete coincidence that
my Beetle stalled at that precise moment."
"Excellent" I told him. "Now put your foot down - I wish to be home."
"Yes, Dennis Brent" he said and he roared out of the car park at over
twenty miles to the hour.
After a couple of silent minutes (while my ears adapted to the painful
screams of the overworked engine) I attempted to make conversation with
Ian Devine.
"Was the remainder of Philip Stiffit's party enjoyable?" I asked.
"Oh yes - things improved considerably after you were arrested" he began.
"I mean, we were all very worried about you but felt that getting on with
the entertainment and not letting events worry us was the best course of
action. Like the people of London during the blitz."
"I was interrogated, beaten up and almost charged with being a terrorist"
I told him.
"We played a very droll version of Pass the Parcel which included elements
of charades and pin the tail on the donkey. Oh! how we roared. Felicity
Bobbins ended up winning a gift voucher for the Dominitemporal Services
mail order service."
"I was only released by the skin of my teeth."
"Then we gathered in Philip Stiffit's private cinema and watched the
forthcoming "Doctor Who" Christmas special while the proles have nothing
to watch but the tantalising trailers released to whet them in preparation
for the big day."
"How did Philip Stiffit obtain a copy of..." I began.
"We were sworn to secrecy."
"You know how he got it?"
"Yes - he said that we were his new inner circle and he shared several
secret contacts with us."
"Then you must tell me at once."
"I cannot - he made us all swear on the life of a named individual who was
so close to us that their death would upset us greatly. I chose Mr
Wetfinger."
"I would've expected you to have picked me, Ian Devine. Surely I mean more
to you than the owner of Bendaton's second oldest pie shop."
"I had to think quickly, Dennis Brent. I didn't have time to think beyond
the golden, crusty, tantalising world of pies."
"So if my life isn't in danger as a result of a breach of confidence you
can tell me who Philip Stiffit's sources are."
"I'm sorry, Dennis Brent, my lips are sealed."
"I'll buy you a pie."
"I have my honour."
"I'll buy you two pies."
"I cannot be bought."
"I'll buy you three pies."
"It would be a gross breach of trust."
"I'll buy you four pies."
"I cannot betray a friend.
"I'll buy you five pies."
"His name is Clive Perkins of 47 Balfour Close, London."
"Thank you, Ian Devine, that is all I need to know."
I was overjoyed when the turrets of Brent Towers came into view. I had
been away from home for almost twelve hours and in that time I hadn't
eaten (apart from dinner at Philip Stiffit's which I merely picked at as I
feared his would lace it with something unpleasant), I hadn't slept and I
hadn't applied unguent. Ian Devine had rolled his window down and was
making the hand signal to indicate a right turn when he broke sharply.
"What ails you, Ian Devine?" I asked.
"Those pies - the ones you promised - I fear my stomach is wringing with
emptiness. Would it be ok if we went back to Shopco now to get them?
I sighed - so near and yet so far.
"Yes" I said and Ian Devine's mauve Beetle began what would become a
nineteen point turn.
