He walked to the door and opened it. Stepping outside he found himself halfway up his own staircase, in the wall of which the door had materialised.
He was about to start up the stairs when he turned again as a thought struck him. He stepped back in, closing the door behind him.
'Reg, could we make one tiny detour?' he said. 'I think it would be a good move if I took Susan out for a meal tonight, only the place I have in mind you have to book in advance. Could you manage three weeks for me?'
'Nothing could be easier,' said Reg, and made a subtle adjustment to the disposition of the beads on the abacus. 'There,' he said, 'We have travelled backwards in time three weeks. You know where the phone is.'
Richard hurried up the internal staircase to Reg's bedroom and phoned L'Esprit d'Escalier. The maitre d' was charmed and delighted to take his reservation, and looked forward to seeing him in three weeks' time. Richard went back downstairs shaking his head in wonder.
'I need a weekend of solid reality,' he said. 'Who was that just going out of the door?'
'That,' said Dirk, 'was your sofa being delivered. The man asked if we minded him opening the door so they could manoeuvre it round and I said we would be delighted.'
It was only a few minutes later that Richard found himself hurrying up the stairs to Susan's flat. As he arrived at her front door he was pleased, as he always was, to hear the deep tones of her cello coming faintly from within. He quietly let himself in and then as he walked to the door of her music room he suddenly froze in astonishment. The tune she was playing was one he had heard before. A little tripping tune, that slowed, then danced again but with more difficulty…
His face was so amazed that she stopped playing the instant she saw him.
'What's wrong?' she said, alarmed.
'Where did you get that music?' said Richard in a whisper.
She shrugged. 'Well, from the music shop,' she said, puzzled. She wasn't being facetious, she simply didn't understand the question.
'What is it?'
'It's from a cantata I'm playing in in a couple of weeks,' she said, 'Bach, number six.'
'Who wrote it?'
'Well, Bach I expect. If you think about it.'
'Who?'
'Watch my lips. Bach. B-A-C-H. Johannes Sebastian. Remember?'
'No, never heard of him. Who is he? Did he write anything else?'
Susan put down her bow, propped up her cello, stood up and came over to him.
'Are you all right?' she said.
'Er, it's rather hard to tell. What's…'
He caught sight of a pile of music books sitting in a corner of the room with the same name on the top one. BACH. He threw himself at the pile and started to scrabble through it. Book after book - J. S. BACH.
Cello sonatas. Brandenburg Concertos. A Mass in B Minor.
He looked up at her in blank incomprehension.
'I've never seen any of this before,' he said.
'Richard my darling,' she said, putting her hand to his cheek, 'what on earth's the matter? It's just Bach sheet music.'
'But don't you understand?' he said, shaking a handful of the stuff.
'I've never, ever seen any of this before!'
'Well,' she said with mock gravity, 'perhaps if you didn't spend all your time playing with computer music…'
He looked at her with wild surprise, then slowly he sat back against the wall and began to laugh hysterically.
On Monday afternoon Richard phoned Reg.
'Reg!' he said. 'Your phone is working. Congratulations.'
'Oh yes, my dear fellow,' said Reg, 'how delightful to hear from you. Yes. A very capable young man arrived and fixed the phone a little earlier. I don't think it will go wrong again now. Good news, don't you think?'
'Very good. You got back safely then.'
'Oh yes, thank you. Oh, we had high excitement here when we returned from dropping you off. Remember the horse? Well he turned up again with his owner. They'd had some unfortunate encounter with the constabulary and wished to be taken home. Just as well. Dangerous sort of chap to have on the loose I think. So. How are you then? 'Reg… The music -'
'Ah, yes, I thought you'd be pleased. Took a bit of work, I can tell you. I saved only the tiniest tiniest scrap, of course, but even so I cheated. It was rather more than one man could actually do in a lifetime, but I don't suppose anybody will look at that too seriously.'
'Reg, can't we get some more of it?'
'Well, no. The ship has gone, and besides -'
'We could go back in time -'
'No, well, I told you. They've fixed the phone so it won't go wrong again.'
'So?'
'Well, the time machine won't work now. Burnt out. Dead as a dodo. I think that's it I'm afraid. Probably just as well, though, don't you think?'
On Monday, Mrs Sauskind phoned Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency to complain about her bill.
'I don't understand what all this is about,' she said, 'it's complete nonsense. What's the meaning of it?'
'My dear Mrs Sauskind,' he said, 'I can hardly tell you how much I have been looking forward to having this exact same conversation with you yet again. Where shall we begin today? Which particular item is it that you would like to discuss?'
'None of them, thank you very much, Mr Gently. I do not know who you are or why you should think my cat is missing. Dear Roderick passed away in my arms two years ago and I have not wished to replace him.'
'Ah, well Mrs Sauskind,' said Dirk, 'what you probably fail to appreciate is that it is as a direct result of my efforts that - If I might explain about the interconnectedness of all…' He stopped. It was pointless. He slowly dropped the telephone back on its cradle.
'Miss Pearce!' he called out, 'Kindly send out a revised bill would you to our dear Mrs Sauskind. The new bill reads 'To saving human race from total extinction - no charge.''
He put on his hat and left for the day.
Notes
