Lost in a Good Book

was pushed against the corner and next to it were a chair, table and cupboard.

‘Do remember that to start a programme you must pull out the programme control knob. Sorry,’ he said, ‘I’m being read at the moment. I’ll be with you in a sec. If you have selected white nylon, minimum iron, delicate or…’

‘Thursday!’ said Miss Havisham, who suddenly seemed weak at the knees. ‘That took quite some—’

I just managed to catch her as she collapsed; I gently laid her down on the small truckle bed.

‘Miss Havisham? Are you okay?’

She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. The jump had worn her out.

I pulled the single blanket over her, sat on the edge of the low bed, pulled my hair tie out and rubbed my scalp.

‘…until the drum starts to rotate. Your machine will empty and spin to complete the programme… Hello!’ said the man in the boiler suit. ‘The name’s Cullards—I don’t often get visitors!’

I introduced myself and explained who Miss Havisham was.

‘Goodness!’ said Mr Cullards, scratching his shiny bald head and smiling impishly. ‘Jurisfiction, eh? You are off the beaten track. The only visitor I’ve had was… excuse me—Control setting “D”: whites economy, lightly soiled cotton or linen articles which are colour fast to boiling— was the time we had a new supplement regarding woollens—but that would have been six or seven months ago. Where does the time go?’

He seemed a cheerful enough chap. He thought for a moment and then said:

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’

I thanked him and he put the kettle on.

‘So what’s the news?’ asked Mr Cullards, rinsing out his one and only cup. ‘Any idea when the new washing machines are due out?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I have no idea—’

‘I’m about ready to move on to something a bit more modern,’ continued Cullards, ‘I started on vacuum cleaner instructions but was promoted to Hoovermatic T5004, then transferred to the Electron 800 after twin-tub obsolescence. They asked me to take care of the 1100 Deluxe but I told them I’d sooner wait until the Logic 1300 came out.’

I looked around at the small room.

‘Don’t you ever get bored?’

‘Not at all!’ said Cullards, pouring the hot water into the teapot. ‘Once I’ve put in my ten years I’m eligible to apply for work in all domestic appliance instructions: food mixers, liquidisers, microwaves—who knows, if I work really hard I could make it into television or wireless. That’s the future for an ambitious manual worker. Milk and sugar?’

‘Please.’

He leaned closer.

‘Management have this idea that only young ‘uns should do Sound & Vision instructions but they’re wrong. Most of the kids in VCR manuals barely do six months in Walkmans before they’re transferred. It’s little wonder no one can understand them.’

‘I never thought of that before,’ I confessed.

We chatted for the next half-hour. He told me he had begun French and German classes so he could apply for work in multilingual instructions, then confided in me his fondest feelings for Tabitha Doehooke, who worked for Kenwood. We were just talking about the sociological implications of labour-saving devices within the kitchen and how they related to the women’s movement when Miss Havisham stirred awake, drank three cups of tea, ate the biscuit that Mr Cullards was reserving for his birthday next May, and announced that we should be on our way.

We said our goodbyes and Mr Cullards made me promise I would clean out the powder dispenser on my washing machine; in an unguarded moment I had let slip I had yet to do so, despite the machine being nearly three years old.

The short trip to the non-fiction section of the Great Library was an easy jump for Miss Havisham, and from there we fworped back into her dingy ballroom in Great Expectations, where the Cheshire cat and Harris Tweed were waiting for us, talking to Estella. The cat seemed quite relieved to see us both, but Harris simply scowled.

‘Estella!’ said Miss Havisham abruptly ‘Please don’t talk to Mr Tweed.’

‘Yes, Miss Havisham,’ replied Estella meekly.

Havisham replaced her trainers with her less comfortable wedding shoes.

‘I have Pip waiting outside,’ said Estella slightly nervously. ‘If you will excuse me mentioning it—Ma’am is a paragraph late.’

‘Dickens can just flannel for a bit longer,’ replied Havisham. ‘I must finish with Miss Next.’

She turned to me with a grim look; I thought I’d better say something to soothe her—I hadn’t yet seen Havisham lose her temper ‘like Vesuvius’, as the Red Queen had so graphically described it, and I was in no hurry to do so.

‘Thank you for my rescue, ma’am,’ I said quickly. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’

‘Humph!’ replied Miss Havisham. ‘Don’t expect salvation from me every time you get yourself into a jam, my girl. Now, what’s all this about a baby?’

The Cheshire cat, sensing trouble, vanished abruptly on the pretext of some ‘cataloguing’, and even Tweed mumbled something about checking Lorna Doone for grammasites and went too.

‘Well?’ asked Havisham again, peering at me intensely.

I didn’t feel quite as frightened of her as I once did, so I told her all about Landen and why I went into The Raven to begin with.

‘For love? Pah!’ she responded, dismissing Estella with a wave of her hand in case the young woman got any odd ideas. ‘And what, in your tragically limited experience, is that?’

‘I think you know, ma’am. You were in love once, I believe?’

‘Stuff and nonsense, girl!’

‘Isn’t the pain you feel now the equal to the love you felt then?’

‘You’re coming perilously close to contravening my rule two, girl!’

‘I’ll tell you what love is,’ I said ‘It is blind devotion, unquestioning self-humiliation, utter submission, trust and belief, giving up your whole heart and soul to the smiter!’

‘That was quite good,’ said Havisham, looking at me curiously. ‘Could I use that? Dickens won’t mind.’

‘Of course.’

‘I think,’ said Miss Havisham after five minutes of silent thought as I stood waiting, ‘that I shall categorise your complex marital question under widowed, which sits with me well enough. Upon reflection—and quite possibly against my better judgment—you may stay as my apprentice. That’s all. You are needed to help retrieve Cardenio. Go!’

So I left Miss Havisham in her darkened chamber with all the trappings of her wedding that never was. In the few days I had known her I had learned to like her a great deal, and hoped someday I might repay her kindness and fortitude.

30. Cardenio Rebound

‘PageRunner: Name given to any character who is out of his or her book and moves through the back-story (or more rarely the plot) of another book. They may be lost, vacationing, part of the Character Exchange Programme or criminals, intent on mischief. (See: Bowdlerisers.)

Texters: Slang term given to a relatively harmless PageRunner (q.v.) (usually juvenile)