The Victoria Vanishes Part 25

ASHES TO ASHES.

Raymond Land set down the food bowl and sneezed violently.'What I want to know,' he demanded *is how come I end up having to look after Crippen when I'm the one who's allergic to cats. Are you listening to me, Leanne?'

'No, darling,' said his wife, who was licking a lipstick pencil and straightening her decolletage in the bathroom, readying herself for a night of sin and self-deception with a Spanish toy-boy she had picked up in the Madeira Tapas Bar, Streatham.

Land searched forlornly for the litter tray. 'You always seem to be refurbishing yourself these days. Where are you going?'

'I'm off to rumple some hotel sheets and have cheap champagne dribbled over my naked body,' she answered through mashing lips.

'I thought you were visiting your mother. It's raining so hard, the cat can't go out. What have you done with its litter?'

'I wouldn't touch the stuff, and if you knew what my nails cost you wouldn't let me either. Don't you remember? Sergeant Longbright gave you the tray and the bag when she brought the cat over.'

Land located the litter bag, unfolded it and removed a clear plastic envelope filled with grey powder. Tearing the top with his teeth, he tipped it into the yellow plastic tray as a cloud of dust blossomed and penetrated his nasal membranes. 'This stuff is awful,' he complained. 'It smells like Oswald's mortuary.'

'The only thing Oswald's mortuary smelled of was Oswald,' said Leanne, pouting her lips in the mirror and wondering about their effect on Hispanic gentlemen under the age of twenty-five.

How could you begin to explain London?

A city once the colour of tobacco and carrots, now chalky stone and angled steel, but vivid chimney pots can still be glimpsed between slivers of rain-specked gla.s.s. Nine billion pounds' worth of Christmas bonuses have just been spent in the city's square mile. In the great financial inst.i.tutions, whirlpools of money are stirred until the ripples splash all but those on the farthest reaches of society. To accommodate this expenditure, the insurance offices and banks of Holborn have reopened as opulent restaurants and bars. At night, drunken merriment splits the capital's seams, and daybreak arrives more silently than midnight.

You can't explain London, of course. That is the root of its charm. A pair of elderly men, overlooked by the young, whittling their thoughts into bar banter, ensconced in run-down public houses in unalluring parts of the world's richest city, what could they know or hope to change?

For if they hoped that their actions might ultimately change the policies of the government, challenge public opinion, inspire the complacent, even alter the course of the city's history, they were wrong. London, the law unto itself, could continue quite happily without their interference. And yet, without them, it could only be a poorer place.

John May went into the University College Hospital on March 12th for his cancer operation. Arthur Bryant went with him, and stayed by his side until the orderly came to take his old friend down for surgery. As John May pa.s.sed through the doors, he raised his head from the pillow and gave a look back at his great friend that said I know what you're about, and don't you ever forget it. Everything is understood between us.

The framed photograph placed behind the bar of the Pineapple pub in Leverton Street, Kentish Town, shows a wrinkled tortoise sporting windowpane gla.s.ses and a frayed brown trilby, wrapped in a moss-green scarf like an unravelling knitted python. Close beside him, taller and just three years younger, is a ramrod-backed gentleman of debonair demeanour, dressed in a rather gaudy Savile Row suit and a scar-let silk tie.

They are smiling for the camera and for each other, as if they have finally come to understand all the secrets of the city.

APPENDIX.

Being Mr Bryant's List of London Public Houses Mentioned in The Victoria Vanishes.

The Devereux 20 Devereux Court WC2 The Seven Stars 53 Carey Street WC2 The Old Dr Butler's Head 2 Mason's Avenue EC2 The Albion 10 Thornhill Road N1 The Pineapple 51 Leverton Street NW5 Penderel's Oak 283 High Holborn WC1 The Old Mitre 1 Ely Court EC1 The Punch Tavern 99 Fleet Street EC4 The Crown & Sugarloaf 26 Bride Lane EC4 The Hand & Racquet 48 Whitcomb Street WC2 The Green Man & French Horn 54 St Martin's Lane WC2 The Jerusalem Tavern Britton Street EC1 The Skinner's Arms 114 Judd Street WC1 The Boot 116 Cromer Street WC1 Mabel's Tavern 9 Mabledon Place WC1 The Victoria Cross The Victoria Park 360 Victoria Park Road E9 The Victoria & Albert Marylebone Station Melcombe Place NW1 The Victoria Stakes 1 Muswell Hill N10 The Queen's Larder 1 Queen Square WC1N The Flying Scotsman The Angerstein Hotel 108 Woolwich Road SE10 The Old Bell Tavern 95 Fleet Street EC4 The Sutton Arms 6 Carthusian Street EC1 Williamson's Tavern 1 Groveland Court Bow Lane EC4 The Viaduct Tavern 126 Newgate Street EC1 The Tipperary 66 Fleet Street EC4 The Red Lion Waverton Street W1 The White Hart 89 Whitechapel High Street E1 The Crown & Anchor 137 Drummond Street NW1 The Royal Oak 73 Columbia Road E2 The Coach & Horses 29 Greek Street W1 The Green Man 383 Euston Road NW1 The Sun in the Sands 123 Shooters Hill Road SE3 The Sherlock Holmes 10-11 Northumberland Avenue WC2 The Old Bank of England 194 Fleet Street EC4 The Old King Lud 78 Ludgate Hill,EC4 The Nun & Broken Compa.s.s 42 Warren Street WC1 The Apple Tree 45 Mount Pleasant WC1 The Museum Tavern 49 Great Russell Street WC1 The Betsey Trotwood 56 Farringdon Road EC1 The Ship & Shovell 1-3 Craven Pa.s.sage WC2 The Yorkshire Grey 29-33 Grays Inn Road WC1 The Plough 27 Museum Street WC1 The Water Rats 328 Gray's Inn Road WC1 The Queen's Head & Artichoke 30-32 Albany Street NW1 The Cross Keys 31 Endell Street WC2 The Bloomsbury Tavern 236 Shaftesbury Avenue WC2 The Exmouth Arms 23 Exmouth Market EC1 The Clock House 82 Leather Lane EC1 The Magpie & Stump 18 Old Bailey EC4 The White Lion 24 James Street WC2 The Hope & Anchor 74 Crowndale Road NW1 The Hope 94 Cowcross Street EC1 The great traditional pubs of London are disappearing as rapacious property developers move in. Some on the list above are under threat, and others have already been destroyed. You can help protect the city's unique social network by buying a few pints in one.

end.