52 - Giving Service

Some time ago I had told God (and anyone else who was listening) that I was here to serve and that I would do whatever was asked of me. Nice words, nice thoughts and suddenly nothing happened. Nothing happened but it did happen suddenly.

Then Anna went to a talk on Tuesday and the speaker and her husband have helped to set up a trust to help people in greed-torn Zimbabwe and they need a bookkeeper. It doesn't sound like a huge job and, with the university work only part-time, it all fits in very nicely. It also sounds so right and I cannot tell you why - it just does. So my giving back has started and it will be interesting to see where it leads.

Back to Arthur's scary story, continued from the previous blog …

"They can't, as I said," said Ahmed with finality.

"You might be right but my gut tells me queasy things, whatever they are," said Halee.

"Mine too …" said Mary. Her phone interrupted her and she snapped it out of her pocket. "Yes Sam, how are you?"

"No Mary, it's Angus," said her brother, laughing. "So yer boyfriend's Sam is it?"

"Angus, what do you want?" asked Mary, confused. "You've never rung my mobile before."

"And I've never been to London before either and here I am, in this stupid city," said Angus.

"What the hell are you doing in London, you daft bugger?" asked Mary, feeling strangely comforted by her brother's proximity.

"I want to know where this damned house of yers is," said Angus, sounding frustrated but jovial. "I said I would pop down some time and here I am. Where do I park a car in this crazy town, girl?"

"Ah, oh hell, Angus, this is so … so unexpected. Hell, it's awkward at the moment," said Mary quickly, trying to think clearly, logically.
"Well that's a fine welcome for a long lost brother, I must say, sis," said Angus, the joy going from his voice.

"Oh Angus, I'm sorry, it will be grand to see you. Really it will but I'm not at home right now and I'm waiting for an important call …" said Mary.

"From boyfriend Sam, I suppose," said Angus, interrupting with a chuckle.

"From Sam, yes, but he's not a boyfriend, like I told you," said Mary, feeling embarrassed in front of Halee and Ahmed while her brain failed to come up with an immediate solution to the problem, like it usually did. Losing it again! Damn!

"And, hey, it's not just me, sis, I've got some important visitors for ye," said Angus, his chuckle beginning to get right on her craw. "All the way from New Zealand to see ye and ye're out on the town, living it up!"

"Look, Angus, let me think for a moment, will you," said Mary. "I've got your number and I'll call you back in a jif."

"Okay sis, just give us an address of the closest hotel and we'll catch up tomorrow, yeah?" suggested Angus. With a huge relief, Mary gave him the address of a hotel around the corner from her apartment and told him she'd pay the bill.

"I can't let ye pay me bills, Mary. Doncha' know I'm Scottish!" said Angus with a laugh. She wondered what he'd been smoking - she'd never heard him so chipper before.

"Yeah and so am I so shut up, book in, enjoy the amenities and I'll be round in the morning to settle up and have breakfast with you," said Mary as the solution presented itself. She was curious about his visitors but needed to have the phone clear for Sam's call. "Okay?"
"Okay, we can argue about it tomorrow, you obstinate Scot!" said Angus and the phone went dead before she could reply.

As Ahmed announced their arrival at his apartment, he grabbed the briefcase to go.

"Hey Ahmed, do you mind!" snapped Mary, not letting it go. "This is my case, not yours. Okay?"

"But I am the man and I must protect you two women," said Ahmed, obviously surprised. "That is my duty."

"Oh Ahmed, that's so kind …" said Mary, uncertain what to say next, so long used to fending for herself.

"It's my duty," said Ahmed with finality.

"Ah, your Muslim duty," said Mary, suddenly realising the man she had worked with for the last two years had a life and beliefs beyond the insurance company. "You're not used to taking orders from women and I'm not used to men doing for me."

"Well, Miss Collins is the boss so she gets the case and you get the door, Ahmed," said Halee cheerily. "Would that work?"
"I don't feel right …" said Ahmed, uncertainly.

"Don't feel, just do," said Mary, handing the taxi his fare. Ahmed still hesitated. "Ahmed, now! They'll be here any time, I just know it!"

"But we've lost them," said Ahmed, hesitating between the modern world he worked in and the ancient world of his ancestry.

"We don't know that so get going and let us safely into your apartment, will you!" said Mary, feeling opportunities for safety slipping away. She could see him relax as he seemed to make a decision.

"Yes ma'am," he said suddenly, releasing the case and leaping from the taxi up the steps to unlock the imposing front door into the spacious foyer of the Kensington apartment block. Mary and Halee followed on his heels.

"Holy moly, you could have a choice party in here!" exclaimed Halee, her voice echoing round the cavernous space. "You didn't tell us you lived in a museum, Ahmed."

"It's not a museum, it's an apartment block, Halee," said Ahmed, explaining carefully, obviously unsure whether she was joking or not.
"Wow, you live here," said Halee turning round and round, taking in the intricately patterned marble floor, the oak-panelled walls, the marble and mahogany staircase that went up five floors, the plastered ceiling sixty feet above them and the massive chandelier in the centre of it. "You could keep your pet brontosauruses here, along with a herd of elephants, Ahmed!"

"Well, yes, it is nice to have the space - a nice contrast to the rest of London," said Ahmed smiling as he walked over to the lift.

"Space? SPACE? You could keep your pet concord in here too!" exclaimed Halee, her voice rising, obviously in a trance. "We're not using a lift when there's this Gone With The Wind staircase here, are we?"

"Oh, well, I've always used the lift," said Ahmed. "The stairs are for tradesmen to take furniture up and things like that. It's not seemly to use them."

"Not seemly? Not blooming seemly?" exclaimed Halee, probably finding the habits of Londoners unusual. "Come on Ahmed, I'll race you. What floor are you on?"

"Oh, the fifth floor, Halee, but you cannot run around in here. It's not done," said Ahmed, his usually calm features looking decidedly lopsided as he scratched his immaculately trimmed beard.

"Not done? 'Tis now …" said Halee.

One Book to Agents, Another Started

 Well, The Importance of Being Arthur – though a publisher may change the title to The Day The Grumpy Angel Smiled or something – is finished and has been sent off to several writers agents around England. My prayers go with it.

In the meantime, I decided to start writing a spin-off, about one of the characters in Arthur – Sam Lord. Sam’s story started but another kept interrupting and so I’ve stopped Sam at about 4,000 words and have started a murder mystery in middle America – something I never imagined doing. It’s a lot of fun writing so that tells me a lot. At the moment it’s called Wrong Place, Wrong Time.

I’ve also started going to the West Oxfordshire Writers (WOW) group and, WOW, what a competent, inspiring and supportive group. As a writer, I’ve realised, it is so important to mix with other writers and word people to get ideas and feedback – not only on the words I’m writing but on ways to market myself and my books. Nothing tangible has happened but it feels like something is moving. Yee hah!

So Arthur's story continues from the previous blog, 1,000 words at a time ...

As Ahmed reached the curb he suddenly veered off and walked right past them. This did not make sense and Mary's apprehension grew. She looked up to see where Ahmed had disappeared to and a tall man loomed into view, in front of them.

"Excuse me, Sir, can I have a word?" asked the tall blonde man. Mary considered running and felt hot and cold all over.

"Yes, how can I help?" asked Halee quickly. "My partner is deaf and cannot speak. I can sign for him." Confusion cleared as Mary realised her voice was not a man's. She was glad of Halee's quick thinking and wanted to hug her on the spot. All she could do was smile crookedly.

"Ah, oh, can you?" asked the man, scratching blonde curls, uncertainly. "Oh, yes, well, can you tell your friend that this dropped out of his briefcase, just back there?" He handed Halee a sealed envelope.

"Oh, thank you, that's very kind," said Halee, obviously relieved.

"No problem, mate," said the man, who patted Mary on the shoulder and trotted off.

As Mary looked at the envelope in Halee's hand, it was snatched away and Mary realised it was Ahmed, with the envelope and in full pursuit of the man. The man was either lucky or practised and had soon disappeared into the crowd. Ahmed returned a few minutes later, puffing and scowling.

"It's not over yet, ladies, let's get you out of here, now!" said Ahmed, frantically waving and looking for a taxi. "Go into this café here, mill around and I'll call you when a taxi has arrived."
Nonplussed, they did as ordered and had only just got inside when Ahmed waved them back to the street.

Mary gave the taxi her address in South Kensington and Ahmed objected, saying they could be followed.

"Sam's ringing me there in an hour," said Mary, feeling her brain and all its functions returning to normal. "I want to be there when he rings."

"Right, let's do it, Mr Taxi!" said Halee.

"You know, it's impossible to tell if anyone is following us because we can only see headlights," said Ahmed, smiling, as they set out on the ten-minute ride. "The movies all tell lies!"

"Thanks Ahmed, but that's not really helping," said Mary, feeling very unsafe.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just trying to introduce some humour," said Ahmed, looking abashed. "Perhaps we talk practicalities and I really do have to say this: I do not think your apartment is a safe place to be at all."

"But Sam's ringing me there," said Mary, determined not to let go of that ray of hope.

"And not on your mobile phone?" asked Halee.

"He didn't say, so I'm not taking any chances," said Mary.

"Leave it to the receptionist - she thinks of everything!" said Halee brightly. "Why don't we pop into your flat, divert the phone to your mobile, then scarper."

"It's not risk elimination but it's risk reduction," said Ahmed, looking slightly relieved.

"So, what's in this case, I really want to see!" said Halee, patting the briefcase.

"That's not very safe here," advised Ahmed.

"If we lock the doors, no one can jump in at the lights," said Halee, not to be put off.

"Okay, okay, we'll have a quick look, but keep a lookout for people approaching us when we slow down anywhere," said Mary, as eager as Halee and as cautious as Ahmed.

The briefcase was filled with about a dozen manila folders, each stuffed with papers. It looked very orderly. Mary pulled out the first folder and rifled quickly through the papers. Most of them concerned the accounts of one of Britain's largest companies, Power Corporation, colloquially called PoCo. There were letters from the auditors and from the director, Sir Magnus Davenport. It all looked a bit boring, really. Mary tried the second folder and there seemed to be correspondence and reports regarding the Olympic Games, due to start in two months' time in London. With details about contracts and power supply, with amendments to particular clauses, it was mainly letters between solicitors and Sir Magnus Davenport and no more interesting than the previous file.

"There's nothing about AIL, Lord Atkinson, Sam or anything else we know about," complained Mary. "What's Sam got to do with PoCo and the Olympics anyway?"

"No idea, no idea at all, Miss Collins," said Ahmed with a frown.
"Let's get creative," said Halee with undiminished enthusiasm. "The top's boring and irrelevant so let's try that yellow one at the bottom."

As they opened the yellow folder she saw drawings of machines that baffled her.

"Oh my god!" said Ahmed with surprise, his white teeth lighting up his dark face. "This … this is alternative technology … ah, intermediate technology."

"It's what?" asked Mary, totally confused.

"Look, when I studied accounting at university …" Ahmed began to say.
"You're an accountant?" asked Halee, obviously impressed.

"Yes, I qualified in both accounting and economics and did accounting for a while and then found a counsellor and some good pills and got over it!" said Ahmed, laughing and then, as if remembering where they were, became serious and looked outside, around the car. The two women followed suit. "Anyway, my favourite economist was the Austrian, E. F. Schumacher …"

"His book, Small Is Beautiful, is amazing!" said Halee, interrupting.

"And his thoughts on intermediate technology and the Law of the Disappearing Middle just had me hooked," said Ahmed. "I was going to take it all back to Pakistan and help my people … anyway, these are intermediate technology machines, machines that are not too expensive or too complex for developing nations to use and maintain; more complex than the shovel but simpler than the tractor, shall we say …"

"And these intermediate technologies keep disappearing, Miss Collins," said Halee, interrupting again. "So developing countries only have a choice of spades - which are not enough to expand their agriculture and feed their people - or tractors which they cannot afford and do not have the expertise or resources to repair."