more effusive. 'I don't want to go too mad too soon. Give me your email and I'll attach a contract to you tomorrow.'
He produces a pen and notebook from inside his jacket. Dozens of wiry hairs spring up on the back of his hand as he tugs off his glove. 'It's [email protected],' I tell him. 'Would you like me to use a pseudonym on the book?'
'Most decidedly not. It's restoring reputations. Let's see what it can do for yours.'
A Triumph has pulled up on the forecourt. Like every customer for petrol, the driver ignores the sign that asks him to pay first. He waves the metal nozzle at me, and I step behind the counter to push the button that starts the pump. 'I'll leave you to your duties,' Rufus says and extends a hand across the ageing headlines of the newspapers on the counter.
His hand feels very little less plump than it did in its glove. As I lock the door behind him he leaves me a grin that's by no means negated by its hairy frame, and mouths 'You'll be hearing from me.' I return behind the counter and don my widest smile as the Triumph driver saunters to the window. I'm going to enjoy my shift. My only regret is that it's too late to tell Natalie my news tonight, but tomorrow's on the way. It can be the first day of my real life.
FOUR - LISTS
Tubby Thackeray
Date of birth (location)
1880?
England
Date of death (details)
?
Mini biography
Thackeray Lane began his career in English music hall. After he (show more)
Actor – filmography
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At once I realise something is wrong, though not with the Internet Movie Database. I scroll down the list and try to ignore my neighbour at the adjacent terminal, who is humming under his breath a bunch of notes with which a pianist might accompany a chase in a silent film.
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Writer – filmography
Archive footage
The biography button on the sidebar brings me a reference to
Where did I get the idea that the events are connected? From somewhere on the Internet or here in the harsh light of the British Film Institute's reading room? It surely doesn't matter, though I'm irritated that so recent a memory is stored beyond retrieval. I click on the biography link to be shown more. Thackeray Lane began his career in English music hall. After he put on so much weight that a stage collapsed beneath him – after he was banned from theatres for making suggestive jokes about telescopes and tarts – after he turned out to be incapable of uttering a sentence that didn't contain at least a trio of Ts – For all I know, any of these could be the case, because the link doesn't work. I abandon it and search the web for Thackeray Lane.
It's at least two places in England. The name also belonged to a professor of mediaeval history whose papers are archived at Manchester University, but I can find no reference to a comedian. A search for Tubby Thackeray brings me no results at all, and he isn't listed in the library catalogue. The Institute's Summary of Information on Film and Television database lists his films, but the National Film and Television Archive has none of them, not even
I can't quite restrain a sigh, which apparently draws the man who was humming an old tune. He keeps his breath and its burden to himself as he leans over my shoulder. When I glance up, sunlight through the blinds behind him sears my vision. I have the impression that his face is very pale, at least in part, and unnecessarily large, perhaps because he's looming so close. As I blink like an unearthed mole he shuffles out of view beyond the only bookcase, and I head for the counter, above which a screen announces that a copy of
'I was hoping for more, to be honest.' When she tilts her long face up as though her interrogative smile has lifted it I say 'You won't have heard of Tubby Thackeray, by any chance?'
'He does seem to ring a bell.' She ponders and then shakes her head, displacing her smile. 'I must have someone else in mind. I don't think I've heard of him.'
'Some of us have.'
I turn but can't identify the speaker. None of the readers at the tables is looking at me, nor at anyone else for having spoken. I'm not even sure how close the man's voice was. 'What was that?' I ask the librarian.
'I said I haven't heard of him.'
'Not you, the other person.' When she looks perplexed I murmur 'The one who just spoke.'
'I'm afraid I'm not able to help you there.'
How could she have been unaware that someone was talking so loud? I'm about to wonder when I realise that every time I've addressed her she has gazed straight at my lips. 'Sorry, you're, I see,' I babble and swing around to question our audience. 'Tubby Thackeray, anybody?'
Do they think I'm inviting someone to reveal he's the comedian? Nobody betrays the least hint of having
