Overtime. Part 15

Me semont de chanter,'

Blondel sang. A few pa.s.sers-by threw small coins into his hat, but otherwise n.o.body took a great deal of notice.

'Oh well,' he said at last, 'he doesn't seem to be here. Right, what about a drink?'

Guy had tried to explain to Blondel that there wasn't in fact a castle at the Elephant and Castle; that it was, to the best of his recollection, something to do with a misp.r.o.nunciation of the Infanta of Castile; that even if there ever had been a castle here, there was highly unlikely to be one still here in 1987; and that even if there was one in 1987 they'd come up in the tube station instead. He'd done his best to convey all these things, and he didn't believe that 'That's what you think' was a satisfactory rejoinder. On the other hand, the idea of a drink sounded splendid, and he said as much.

'You're on, then,' Blondel said. 'Watch this.'

He laid his hat down beside him, produced his lute and sang some more songs, ones that Guy hadn't heard before and which he didn't like much. His view was not, however, shared by the pa.s.sers-by, and they soon had a hatful of coins which Blondel judged to be adequate for the purpose in hand.

'There used to be a rather nice little Young's pub just round the corner from here,' he said. 'Nice beer, but the only way you could ever get on the pool table was to nip back through time and get your money down before the previous game started. Let's give it a try, shall we?'

'Used to be,' Guy repeated. 'When was that?'

'When I was last here.'

'1364?' Guy asked. '1570?'

Blondel grinned. '1997, actually. Like I always say, doesn't time fly when you're having fun?'

They wrapped Blondel's sword and Guy's revolver in a blanket to avoid being arrested and walked round the corner to the Nine Bells. As they sat down and tasted their beer, Blondel smiled.

'That's one of the advantages of my lifestyle,' he said. 'You get a better angle on progress.

Guy wiped some froth from his lips. 'Come again?' he said.

'You know what I mean,' Blondel replied. 'You know how, as you get older, the beer never tastes as good, the policemen get younger every year, that sort of thing. Now I do my return visits in reverse chronological order whenever I can, so I get the opposite effect; yummy beer, geriatric policemen, and the last time I was here it was thirty pence a pint more expensive. Drink up.'

Guy drank up. It made him feel very slightly better.

'I suppose,' he said, 'I must be in my seventies by now. That's if I survive the War.'

'Quite so,' Blondel replied. 'There's an outside chance you might meet yourself, you never know. That's why it's so important not to get chatting about the War with old men in pubs.'

Guy nodded. 'Unless,' he said, 'I remember I was here before, of course. Then I'd know, I suppose.'

'Don't count on it,' Blondel said. 'I knew a chap once who met himself. Actually - he was a terribly clumsy sort of fellow, you see - he accidentally pushed himself under a train. It was his future self that got killed, of course, not his time-travelling self. Tragic.'

Guy looked up from his beer. 'What happened?'

'Poor chap,' Blondel said, 'went all to pieces. I said to him, Listen, George, it's no use living in the past. But Jack, he said, I haven't really got any b.l.o.o.d.y choice in the matter, have I? In the end, the Editeurs came for him. It was the only thing to do.'

'Who are the -'

'Never you mind,' Blondel said. 'It'd only worry you. I think we have time for another.'

He went to the bar and returned with more beer.

'Blondel,' Guy asked, 'is that where ghosts come from?'

'Sorry?'

'Ghosts,' Guy said. 'Are they people who've got - well, lost in time? I mean, it sounds as if they could be people who've -'

'Nice idea,' said Blondel, 'but not really, no. Ghosts are something quite different. I'll tell you all about that some other time. Now then let's have a look at the schedule.'

He produced a tattered envelope, on the back of which was a long list written in minuscule handwriting. About a fifth of the entries were crossed off. Blondel deleted another three, and Guy noticed that three more added themselves automatically at the end. He asked about it.

'Automatic diary input,' Blondel explained. 'When I go to a place/time, it doesn't mean I've dealt with it once and for all. It just means that it goes to the back of the queue. However, I'm pleased to say we're more or less on -'

'Is this seat taken?'

A shadow had fallen across the table. Guy looked up and saw three men. They were dressed in smart charcoal grey suits and had dark grey hair. It was hard to tell them apart. They could easily have been brothers; triplets, even.

Blondel glanced up, smiled and said, 'h.e.l.lo there, Giovanni, fancy meeting you here. Yes, by all means, take a pew. What'll you have?'

Guy stared. For some reason which he couldn't quite grasp, he could feel his hand walking along the seat on its fingertips towards the blanket.

'That's all right,' said Giovanni, 'Iachimo will get them. Same again?' He sat down, strategically placed between Guy and the blanket. Guy had the feeling that he'd done that on purpose.

'That'll be fine,' Blondel was saying. 'Guy, how about you?'

Guy said yes, that was very kind. One of the three went to the bar; the other one sat down next to Blondel and produced a cigar.

'We just missed you last time you were here,' Giovanni said. 'Marco, offer these gentlemen a cigar.'

'Your local, is it?' Blondel asked.

'Not really,' Giovanni replied. 'But we look in from time to time. Handy for the office, you know, meeting clients, that sort of thing.'

Blondel nodded. 'That's right,' he said, 'I forgot. Beaumont Street's just across the way, isn't it?'

Giovanni smiled. 'Well then,' he said, 'it's been a long time, hasn't it?'

'Quite,' Blondel replied. 'It must be -'

'Eight hundred years, exactly,' said Giovanni. 'To the day, in fact.'

'Is it really? Doesn't time -'

'Eight hundred years,' Giovanni went on, 'since you skipped out on us. Welched on your contract. Left us in a most unfortunate position.'

Blondel smiled. 'I don't think you've met my colleague, Mr Goodlet,' he said. 'Guy Goodlet, the Galeazzo brothers; Giovanni, Iachimo, Marco. They're in the ...,' Blondel considered for a moment, .... the timeshare business. And other things too, of course.'

The Galeazzo brothers turned and looked at Guy. Then they turned back and looked at Blondel, who was still smiling.