'I lied,' I said back. 'Avanti.'
The rest of the search was enlivened by Algernon describing the spore capsules of the Pellia epiphylla, while I went over the Viking burials and tumuli we'd seen. Nothing. Still, I trusted my feelings about Bexon. He'd got on to something. Put me within spitting distance and I'd sense it. I knew I would.
I came to with us heading north on the metalled road and Algernon explaining the difference between a bogbean and a twayblade, whatever they were. I'd have given anything for a pastie. Not to eat, just to shut his cake-hole.
That day seemed months long. My mind was reeling with views of yachting basins, harbours, promontories, inlets, small towns huddled round wharves, castles, Celtic burial mounds, Neolithic monuments and encampments, tiny museums (musea? I never know the proper declension) and stylish period houses. We finished Bexon's list baffled and bushed. I was knackered. Only Algernon the Inexhaustible chattered on. Janie thinks he's marvellous. She likes talkers.
Whenever he seemed to slow up she'd actually ask a question and start him off again in spite of frantic eyebrow signals from me. I swear she likes riling people sometimes. He seemed to know everything about everything except antiques. He even tried telling me there were different kinds of sheep.
'Never mind, Lovejoy,' she said, all dimples, towards the end of the day. 'We might have had to travel in your hired Mini.'
I tried not to laugh but women get through to you and I found myself grinning. Just shows how tired we were.
'Let's pull in,' I suggested.
'A mile further on, please, Janie,' Algernon asked. 'There's a pull-in there.' Surprised, we all agreed. It wasn't far from Douglas anyhow, and we'd reached the end of the list, so what did it matter?
I saw why he'd suggested this when we arrived. Even though it was quite late people were milling about. A cafe stood back from the road on the exposed hillside. A mile further along the hill a television transmitter's mast poked up, its red light shining to warn aircraft. A large stand for spectators had been built on a macadam apron beside the road. Motor-bikes littered the ground.
'It's one of the IT checkpoints,' Algernon beamed with delight. 'Look! An Alan Clews fourstroke! Good heavens!'
I went in and got some pasties. Three teas in cardboard. When I emerged Janie was back in the car trying to keep warm. A wind was getting up. Algernon was admiring a cluster of bikes. Some were in pieces. Enthusiasts in overalls and bulbous with bike gear compared spanners. What a life.
'Isn't it a positively stimulating scenario, Lovejoy?' Algernon said, really moved. It looked a hell of a mess.
'Eat,' I said, thrusting a pastie into his mouth.
God help the Almighty when we all come bowling up to heaven, each of us with a different definition of Paradise. I wish Him luck. And if everything there's lovely and new I for one won't go.
'Thank you, Lovejoy,' he said. 'Come and see this Villiers engine.'
'No.' I'd rather his rotten grass than his rotten engines.
I gave the grub out.
'Oh, Lovejoy,' Janie complained. 'I hate this soya stuff.'
'I asked for it.' If you save only one cow a year it's a lot. Indeed it's everything, if you're the cow concerned.
'We've finished, love,' Janie said, pausing. 'He didn't mention any more places.'
'Don't nag.'
She gave me a searching look and then tried to cheer me up with questions about Suetonius and Co. I was too dejected to respond. The trouble is I tend to get a bit riled when I'm down.
Wearily I leaned on the car. In an hour it would be dusk. The motor-bike fiends were undeterred by mere changes in the environment. Algernon was joining a group busy stirring a heap of metal tubes on wheels with spanners. One oil-daubed bloke even seemed to recognize him and shook Algernon's hand.
'I'm so sorry, darling.' Janie put her hand on mine. 'I wish I could help.'
I shook her off and look' d about, simmering.
'Lovejoy,' she said warningly, but I was beyond talk. I'd nothing against the bike fiends, but I had to sort somebody out for light relief. I was suddenly breathing fast and angry, all my hopes in ruins. Yet I knew we were close. One small clue…
'Lovejoy. Please.'
Over in one corner was a little group clustered about a couple of soap-boxers. One was a bird from the Militant Feminist League. I ignored her, though I'm on their side. I really do hope the suffragettes get the vote. I needed somebody worth a dust-up. And there he was, the inevitable rabble-rouser, I saw with satisfaction. You get at least one where there's a crowd. He had a soap-box near the cafe steps. My blood warmed and I moved casually towards him.
'Lovejoy'
I heard Janie come after me. I honestly wasn't spoiling for a fight, but these political nerks do as well as any. You can't go wrong because they're all stupid.
'You're all capitalist dupes and lackeys,' he was yelling, an unshaven political gospeller.
He got a few catcalls and jeers back from the bike fiends but kept going, a game lad.
'Your bike races are personalized general crimes!'
I drifted past Algernon. He was asking the others about plugs.
