Letter to Belinda

by Tim Tingle

  (4)Thursday, 5 P.M. at Blackwell’s Books, NW Huntington St.

  (5)Friday, 7 P.M at Borders Store in Dover.’

  “Wow. Sounds like they plan on keeping me busy. They have me wrapped up on Thursday. Two book signings on the same day.”

  “And your book is now the #1 bestseller, according to this. Congratulations, Dad!”

  “I don’t know what to say. I never really thought it would go this far. I just wish it would make the Best-sellers List in the U.S.”

  “Isn’t this just as well?”

  “In some ways, it could be even better, I guess. I have heard that the British book market is a microcosm of the U.S. market.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “It means that if it does well here, it will also do well in the U.S. I need to save this, and let your mother see it.”

  “Knowing Mom, she’ll want to frame it and hang it on the wall.”

  “That will be okay too. I’ve worked hard at my writing, and I’m not above bragging a little. But I am still a little bewildered that it’s made it to the #1 spot.” Travis could imagine a reporter asking him the question, ‘Mr. Lee, to what do you attribute your success?’ And he would have to answer: ‘A bogus article in ‘Whisperings’ Magazine.’

  13

  They landed without incident, and followed the signs to Customs, then met their tour group leader, who helped them to gather their luggage, then ushered them to a waiting tour bus. The mood was almost somber, as most of the group members were feeling the effects of jet lag.

  The streets of London were wet with recent rain. The tour guide was a girl with blue dyed hair, who was even less enthusiastic about the tour than her sleepy Americans. Still, they followed a pre-determined route through the city that would give the guests a brief sample of the sights to see in London. The Parliament building, St. Paul’s Cathedral, The British Museum, the Tower Bridge, The Tower of London, but the light rain streaked the windows, and prevented the few who were still awake from taking pictures.

  Travis was one of the few still awake, and he was nodding off. Drew was awake, but groggy. Lois and Mrs. Parker were sound asleep. Professor Foust, who had not slept a wink on the plane, thanks to his constant worry, was snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Finally Professor Cunningham interrupted the monotone tour guide.

  “Listen, young Lady, please don’t think that we are not grateful for the tour. We want to see all these things in time, but we just came off a red-eye flight, and even the hardiest travelers among us are exhausted. Could we please just cut this tour short, and go to the hotel?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. I feel that I am lecturing to myself anyway!”

  “Look around this bus. I think you really are. Please don’t take offense it’s just that we are very tired.”

  “No offense taken. Peter, take us to the Royal National South.”

  “Yes, Mum.” The driver said.

  Ten minutes later, they stopped in front of the Royal National Hotel South. Fred had to go down the aisle and literally shake some of the students awake to get them off the bus. They identified their luggage, then went into the lobby to be given their keys and room assignments. Fred also made an announcement.

  “Listen up, everyone. Please do not go to your rooms and sleep like zombies, as much as you would like to. In order for us to adjust to the time difference, and thus, enjoy the rest of our trip, we must stay awake as much as possible the rest of the day today, and sleep tonight. Here is what I suggest, It is now almost 9 A.M. Go and put your things up in your rooms, and take a quick nap. Set your alarms, if you must, but get back up at noon. We will all meet in the dining room here at the hotel at 12:30 for lunch. Then we will give out your Subway Passes, and the rest of the day, you will be free to explore London on your own. Our formal tour itinerary will begin tomorrow. So, everyone synchronize your watches. It is now exactly 8:56 A.M. I repeat, everyone meet in the dining area at 12:30, and remember to bring your room key, as it will be your pass to eating lunch for free. Now, scatter, my children!”

  Everyone dispersed, but as they did so, Steve ran to Fred, obviously concerned.

  “Did I hear you say that after lunch, we are going to just turn everyone loose on London?”

  “That’s right, Steve.”

  “What if they get lost?”

  “There are city maps in their rooms.”

  “But these are just kids!”

  “They are college kids for the most part, and I am sure they will probably hang out in groups of two or more. And some might even want to hang out with us, unless we insist on treating them like children! Chill out, Steve! This is vacation time for all of us. Relax and enjoy it!”

  Steve was too tired to put up an argument, so he went on to his room, but he was sure to protest again at lunch.

  Travis approached Fred. “Can we get our subway passes now, if we want them?”

  “Oh? Too tired to make it to lunch?”

  “No, I want to go ahead and use them, to go to Hyde Park.”

  “That’s fine, as long as you can get back by 12:30. I’ll be giving out some valuable information at lunch, so you might want to be there.” He opened a manila envelope and gave him three subway passes.

  “I think we’ll be back by then.”

  Travis, his Mom, and Drew were sharing the same room, so they went up on the elevator together.

  “How are you making it so far?” he asked his Mom.

  “I’m okay. Just a little tired. I’ll be better once I rest a little.”

  “The jet lag has got everybody tired. But we should be recovered by tomorrow. The rest of today might be rough.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Here are your subway passes. I plan to put my stuff up, then go out and try mine out. Anyone want to go with me?”

  “Not me!” Lois said. “I think I can use a nap before lunch.”

  “What about you, Drew?”

  “Sure, I’ll go.”

  “All right. We’ll put our stuff in the room, and go right out.”

  “What are you wanting to see, Dad?”

  “Hyde Park. There is a corner of the Park that is called Speaker’s Corner. Every Sunday morning, from sunrise until noon, there is something that happens there that I want to see. If we don’t see it today, we’ll miss it, because we will be gone back home next Sunday.”

  “What happens there?” Lois asked.

  “It’s like a public forum. Anyone can get up on their soapbox and express their opinion on any subject, without fear of prosecution. That is the only place and time they can do it in England.”

  “They don’t have freedom of speech over here?”

  “Yes they do, but not in the same sense that we do. At Speaker’s Corner, anyone can say anything about anyone, or anything, and it doesn’t even have to be true! It can be an opinion, a wild idea, outright slander, or obscenely vulgar. No one can be legally prosecuted in any way, for anything they say there, even if it is about the Queen Mother!”

  “It doesn’t sound like I would want to go there!” Lois said.

  “In a sense, it is the purest form of freedom of speech. A lot of young people use it as a means to express their frustration with the established society. Communists, and other politically radical factions use it as a podium that to express their political views, in a country where they would otherwise be suppressed. It is a healthy forum for otherwise voiceless people to vent their anger on any subject.”

  “So what do you want to say, Dad?”

  “I just want to see and hear what goes on there. I heard a British coal miner talk about it once, so I thought I’d go there.”

  They dragged their luggage to their room, where Lois picked her bed and sat down.

  “Are your legs hurting?”

>   “My legs and back, but I’ll be okay after I rest awhile. I wish I had some ice water.”

  “Drew, take the ice bucket and go get ice for your grandmother.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Usually on the bathroom counter.”

  “I don’t see one, Dad. But there is a small refrigerator in the bottom of the closet. There is an ice tray, but no ice.”

  “Fill the tray and put it back in. She’ll have ice later.”

  “Wow! There’s all kinds of other things in here! All kinds of sodas, and beer, and candy bars!”

  “But it’s not free. We’ll have to pay for it when we leave.”

  “Is there a bottle of cold water in there?”

  “Yep! Spring water!”

  “Then bring it to me. I need something to take my medication with.”

  “I’m taking my camera with me, and my subway card. I don’t think we’ll need much more.”

  “What about money? We don’t have any English Pounds.”

  “I have a credit card, in case we need it. Ready to go?”

  “I’m ready, Dad.”

  “Let me make a phone call first, to Jester Books, just to let them know I am here, and see what they want me to do.”

  While Lois laid down to take a nap, and Drew continued to unpack, Travis figured out the phone system, and called Jester Books. He got a recording, which presented him with a menu of options, the last of which was to wait on a live operator, which he chose. A girl with a thick accent answered.

  “You have reached the Jester Books answering service. How may I help you, please?”

  “This is Travis Lee. I just arrived from America, and thought I should check in with whoever is in charge there.”

  “Good morning, Mista’ Lee! Mista’ Bagley will be glad to hear that you have arrived! Let me try to connect you with him at his home. This being Sunday, no one is in the office.”

  “I see. Is that Aaron Bagley?”

  “Yes sir! Mista’ Aaron Bagley is the President of Jester Books. Shall I get him on the tellie?”

  “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

  “One moment please.”

  “Thank you,” he said, even though he knew she was already gone. It was a short wait.

  “Mr. Lee! How are you this morning?”

  “Aside from the jet lag, pretty good, Mr. Bagley.”

  “Good, good! How do you like England?”

  “Fine, so far. I just arrived about two hours ago, from New York.”

  “Good heavens! You should get some rest!”

  “I noticed that The London Times has ‘The Relic’ at #1 on the Best Sellers List.”

  “Yes, but that is no surprise! We have been selling it so fast that we can hardly keep up with the orders! Do you know that this is the first #1 seller in Jester Books history?”

  “No, Mr. Bagley, I didn’t know that.”

  “Please, just call me Aaron. I think we are going to be quite good friends in the future, particularly if you have another manuscript ready for publication!”

  “As a matter of fact, I do, Mr. Bagley . . . I mean Aaron. Please call me Travis.”

  “Wonderful, Travis! What is the name of this second book?”

  “Behind The Green Door.”

  “Is it as intriguing, and spine-tingling as ‘The Relic’?”

  “Those who have read it say it is even better!”

  “Excellent! I can’t wait to read it!”

  “I hope I can get a better royalty deal than I got on ‘The Relic’.”

  “Ah yes! I am truly sorry about the terms of that contract. As you know, I bought it from Ronald Fallon, at Maple Leaf, after his company went bankrupt. According to the wording of the contract, there was nothing owed to the author, under such circumstances.”

  “I know, and I can’t complain. I signed the contract without fully reading and understanding it. But I won’t make that mistake again.”

  “I am not that familiar with contracts in Canada, but from my perspective it seems that the way you were treated by Mr. Fallon was a bit underhanded, I mean by standards of how we do things in Britain.”

  “Yeah, his dealings were underhanded wherever you are from. He was a con-man, just plain and simple. But he got his reward.”

  “Yes, I heard of his demise. It seemed quite fitting, considering the way he had no regard for his authors. After all, it is you, the writers, who make fortunes for us all!”

  “At least I was there when Fallon was killed. That was some consolation. I would have preferred to have done it myself, but someone beat me to it!”

  “Well, I assure you, Travis, that we can make you a very good offer on your next book. Sometime while you are here, we shall sit down and talk about it over tea.”

  “I also saw the itinerary in the Times, of the five book signings I am expected to make.”

  “Yes, those are tentative, of course. We tried to coordinate them with the travel itinerary you sent us. Are there any conflicts with it?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Good! If possible, you need to meet with our Coordinator of Author Affairs sometime later today, to discuss the details of the book signings. My daughter, Angelina is in charge of that. What about if I arrange for you to meet her for dinner this evening, at Jester Books expense, of course?”

  “I suppose so. I don’t know the dinner plans of my group, but I’m sure I can make plans for that.”

  “Good! I will arrange for a car to pick you up at say, six this evening, at your hotel. Where are you staying?”

  Travis had to look on the desk writing paper letterhead for the name. “I’m at the Royal National Hotel South.”

  “Very good. A car will be there at six. I’m sorry to say that I will not be able to meet you in person today. I am about to go catch a train for Glasgow. I have a blasted wedding to attend there this evening for the son of an associate. You know, one of those commitments that one wishes one could get out of, but can not! Nonetheless, Angelina will take very good care of you. She is quite competent.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. When will I be able to meet you?”

  “I hope to be back in time tomorrow for your signing at Borders in Piccadilly Circus. I should be there, since it starts at two.”

  “Then I will look forward to meeting you there.”

  “I think you will be surprised by the number of books you will be signing, Travis, so rest your writing hand!”

  “I’ll do that!” Travis laughed as he hung up, but he had no idea how serious Mr. Bagley was.

  “Okay Mom, we should be back by lunch.”

  She mumbled something as they left. They rode the elevator down, and picked up a city map from the front desk, and were out the front door. The location of the hotel was marked on the map. Each subway station was marked on the map as well. “Okay, here is the nearest subway station to where we are, two blocks to the east. According to this map, there is a subway station very close to Hyde Park. Well, within five blocks.”

  “And where is this Speaker’s Corner?”

  “I don’t know. It isn’t marked on this map. We’ll just go to Hyde Park, and ask directions. It shouldn’t be hard to find.”

  It was still overcast and dreary as they neared the subway station. Drew saw a lot that interested him as they walked. The clothing shops, the convenience stores looked intriguing. Many of the products they sold were the same as in the U.S., but some things were different. A pack of cigarettes caught his eye. It was black, with a white skull and crossbones on the front.

  “Death Cigarettes? Is that some kind of joke?”

  Travis picked it up and read the package. “It says ‘Death Cigarettes, for an honest smoke’. And listen to the disclaimer on the side. Ins
tead of a Surgeon General’s warning, it has this: ‘Smoking does not make you sexy, stylish, or sophisticated. It kills you. We are not selling a pack of lies, we are selling a pack of cigarettes. DEATH brand cigarettes, is a responsible way to market a legally available consumer product, which kills people when used exactly as intended.’ And it is manufactured by the Enlightened Tobacco Co., of London. No, it doesn’t look like a joke, because it’s a real pack of cigarettes. Look, they even have DEATH in menthol.”

  “That is so cool! We ought to buy a pack, just to show people back home.”

  “We will later. Right now we have to get on to Hyde Park, before it gets too late.”

  They followed the signs to the subway, and descended three long sets of steps. As they did so, Travis explained to Drew a few things about the subway system.

  “The people of London used the subways for bomb shelters during World War II. It was the only places that were safe from the bombing raids, and the thousands of random missiles that the Nazi launched across the English Channel. According to this map, the subway can be used to pretty much access any area of London, and even some of the larger surrounding cities.”

  “Look, there is Hyde Park, on the map.”

  “Yes, and here we are, so we need to go West on this route, to the third station, then get off. It’s even called Hyde Park Station. Hey, how simple can it get?”

  They came to a guard booth, and a set of turnstiles, and a place to swipe their subway pass. Travis inserted his card, and pulled it out, and the turnstile red light turned green, and he pushed his way through. They went down yet another set of steps, and then rode a long escalator deep into the earth, until they reached the ‘tube level’ it was called, where they actually saw a subway train screeching to a halt at the curb. The doors opened, and a couple of people exited, while a recording told them the name of the present station, and the next station up the line, and also reminded them to ‘mind the gap’.

  “This one is west-bound! Quick, let’s jump on it, Drew!”

  “Mind the gap! The doors are closing!” the recording said. The doors closed, and the train took off, almost throwing them into the floor before they grabbed a handrail. Travis flopped down in a seat, and Drew made his way to the seat beside him. The car was virtually empty, with a few elderly women on the far end of the car.