Fifty Years After The Hunt for Asif

By David S Britton

It is August 2012. The Stewart Gang trials are over. Most of the gang members are behind bars and their leader, Lord Philip Stewart, is dead, hanged by his fellow prisoners during a riot. Julia Donaldson’s police team have brought all the gang’s police and political protectors to book – except one, the Prime Minister, Sir Marcus Greenway. Julia confronts him with the evidence against him and he agrees to resign.

Now a race against time begins as his enemies close in on Sir Marcus – the Police who want to arrest and charge him, the Jihadists who want to assassinate him, a survivor of the Stewart Gang who wants to kill him, and a determined reporter who wishes to expose him and his family as being involved in corruption. Facing this threat, the politicians around Sir Marcus and the Greenway family circle the wagons.

But – is this enough to protect the Prime Minister as the western World comes under a sustained terrorist assault by the Jihadists inspired by their leader, code named Asif? And all the time the niece of Philip Stewart is busy resurrecting the Stewart gang under her leadership, hotly pursued by Julia and her team. Will Julia find Elizabeth Stewart and will the Intelligence Community find and eliminate Asif before either can do real harm? And what will happen to Sir Marcus Greenway?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Legend Press
• Release date: Oct 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781789557992

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Part One

The end of an era

(August 17 2012 to September 24 2012)

We meet and pass like ships in the night

(Popular saying)

a. The Greenway Story

1. A Superintendent Calls

August 17 2012

Westminster

Sir Marcus Greenway sat behind his desk in his House of Commons office. His P. A. sat opposite him, taking dictation. Marcus was answering a constituent who wrote to him requesting his help in getting her four-year old daughter into the Primary School of her choice, which was not her local one. Having gone through the routine formalities of thanking her for writing and explaining his sympathy for, and understanding of, her position, he paused, wondering how to explain he was unable to help her, when the telephone on his desk rang.

His PA picked up the receiver.

Good morning; Prime Minister’s Office. This is Daphne Bright, Sir Marcus’s PA. How can I help you?

Marcus suddenly looked up as he heard the distant voice of the Sergeant at Arms

"Could you tell Sir Marcus I have a Superintendent Donaldson at the desk, asking to see him and claiming she has an appointment?

Marcus had forgotten about Julia’s appointment. He reached for the phone before Daphne could answer.

I’ll take it, Daphne, he said.

Daphne passed the receiver to him.

Hello Sir Michael. It’s Marcus speaking. The Superintendent contacted me and I believe Daphne booked an appointment for her.

He looked at his PA, who nodded back.

OK. That’s fine. Bring her up.

Daphne gathered together her papers and her Dictaphone and began to leave the office, when Marcus called her back.

Daphne, could you please make a pot of tea for two and bring it in with some biscuits?

Certainly, Sir Marcus, Daphne said as she headed towards the door, which opened as she reached it, to admit the Superintendent.

Marcus thought Julia Donaldson had aged more than the two years he had known her since she came to Lewisham to investigate the Stewart Gang. Her blond hair seemed greyer and her face more lined. He smiled at her.

Good morning, Julia. It’s been a long time since we last met, and you’ve been very busy since, I know.

That’s very kind of you Sir Marcus. You’re right, of course, my team and I, with the help of your grandson and granddaughter in law, have been very busy and I’ve come to give you our end of term report.

Julia smiled gravely as she said this. She dreaded this interview and only undertook it after taking advice from the Director of Public Prosecutions. She reached into her bag and took out a black covered notebook, which she opened and flattened out on her lap. Daphne entered with a tray which she placed on Marcus’s desk before pouring out tea for the two of them. After she left, Julia began to speak, taking occasional sips as she did so.

I was originally asked by my Chief Constable to come to London to investigate an obscure capital murder from 1961, a seemingly open and shut case, but one that involved you, Sir Marcus.

That’s right, Superintendent. I assisted my father who was the Prosecutor. It involved a black boy and a white girl. The boy was convicted of shooting her and was hanged.

Julia nodded.

It seemed a straightforward case until I studied the case file which your Grandson had acquired by nefarious means, which we will not go into.

It was Marcus’s turn to smile as he remembered the case conference at Chequers where his grandson had first presented the new evidence and the theatrical expression of horror that his Attorney General had shown.

Jonathan’s methods were unorthodox, he agreed.

They were downright illegal, Julia retorted. However, as the Judge pointed out, without it, the old injustice would have remained.

Indeed! Marcus agreed.

Julia took another sip of tea and nibbled a biscuit. This was the easy part. The harder part was to come.

As you know, we were able to get the original verdict quashed and young Mark Smith pardoned so he could be buried alongside his fiancée, Janet Brown. That done, we brought the former Lord Philip Stewart to trial and duly secured a conviction for the murder of Janet and for perjury (securing the judicial murder of Mark by lying).

You did a good job there Superintendent. The case was allowed to drag on for too long.

I agree, Sir Marcus – but, if you’ll forgive me, I’ll come back to that issue later. For now, let me express my gratitude for the four people whom you know made the belated attainment of justice possible.

Julia looked down at the flattened page, took out a pen from her bag, and ticked off the top item – the Smith/Stewart Trials.

Of course, she continued. The Stewart Case had a couple of spin offs – the Cambridge kidnap, where Stewart’s agents kidnapped two Cambridge students in mistake for your grandson and his fiancée, and tried to sell them into sex slavery – and the attempt to bribe the Stewart jury into finding him not guilty. Both of these were resolved swiftly and the six offenders jailed.

Marcus nodded. He recalled the Cambridge Case because it distressed Belinda, his grandson’s wife, who knew the couple.

Julia continued remorselessly.

The Cambridge Case proved to be a lucky break for us because it caused a senior member of the gang to jump ship and turn Queen’s Evidence, thus giving us a route into the records of the Stewart Gang. This proved invaluable, and we were able to follow up the conviction of Stewart with the arrest of his gang. Once they realised the game was up they turned on each other and we were able to piece the story together and bring them to trial and conviction in their turn. Meanwhile the Spanish police arrested Stewart’s brother and broke up his gang, who were also tried, convicted and imprisoned.

Julia looked up from her notebook and, looking at the teapot, smiled sadly at Marcus.

Sir Marcus, tea is all very well – but when I leave here I’ve got to tidy up my papers and vacate my office at Lewisham Police Station. Don’t you have anything stronger?

Marcus grinned and, standing up, went across to a cupboard behind his desk, took out a bottle and two glasses, and placed them on the desk.

My favourite brandy, he explained. A gift from the French President.

He poured himself a glass and one for Julia, passing it across to her. She took it gratefully, and sipped approvingly.

Hmm, she murmured. It’s a very good cognac.

She sat quietly, savouring the taste for a moment, before resuming her account.

Having disposed of the Gang, and I hope they don’t become folk heroes like the Krays, we turned to the issue of how they evaded justice for so long.

Julia paused as she recalled just how long, arduous and painful that aspect of the job had been. She described how Inspector Buchan, who had led the Mark Smith investigation, had been the first of many police officers corrupted by the Stewarts and how the corruption had spread widely and continued for fifty years. It even affected the way the Stewarts did their legitimate business. She looked down her list of names with a sigh before continuing. She explained that a large number of police officers had either retired or died, but some were still active. Those were questioned and given a choice – honourable retirement or prosecution. None had taken the second option.

And then? Marcus asked, dreading the answer he knew must come. Julia reviewed how they had investigated both local and national politicians in the same way as they had the police, with similar results, except that six MPs had refused to cooperate with them. They were forced to resign, were prosecuted, convicted and imprisoned. Marcus nodded, as he remembered the cases – two Labour MPs, one Liberal Democrat and three Conservative.

Julia paused, took her glass, and swallowed the rest of her brandy, shaking her head when Marcus offered to refill it. She stared at the empty glass for a full minute, before putting it down gently and facing the, by now, very nervous, Prime Minister.

That left just one person, the most senior.

Julia paused dramatically before continuing.

You, Prime Minister.

Marcus also drained his glass, but immediately refilled it.

Go on.

You knew from the second day of the Smith trial something was wrong. You spoke to Janet’s sister when she ran out of the courtroom and then to your father, who refused to listen to you. Later, after the verdict, you spoke to the condemned Mark Smith, believed his story and browbeat Philip Stewart into telling you the truth. Philip threatened your wife, and you backed off – allowing a boy you knew to be innocent to be hanged for a murder he didn’t commit.

I did talk to my father – but again he wouldn’t listen.

That’s true, Sir Marcus – but it doesn’t excuse you. But it’s worse than that, isn’t it? Your family doesn’t know – but you’ve been receiving monthly payments from the Stewarts from then right up to Philip Stewart’s arrest. You blocked two demands for a public enquiry and helped continue the cover up begun by your father and Inspector Buchan.

Marcus put his glass down and sat, facing Julia, his head in his hands, in shamed silence. Julia sat opposite him, notebook and pen in hand, saying nothing and waiting for his answer. Eventually he raised his head and began to speak.

There’s no point in my trying to hide anything or pretending I haven’t done what you’ve shown I’ve done, Superintendent. I’ve been stupid and failed in my duty as a public servant and a Minister of the Crown. I know my father used me to make contact with the Stewart family, but that’s no excuse. I knew Mark was innocent of any crime, and yet I let him hang, and then blocked any investigation into the case no less than five times. I also allowed Inspector Buchan to play fast and loose with the law to protect the Stewarts. I was the local MP and I should have raised his behaviour with the Attorney General and the Home Secretary. I have no defence for my actions and I confess myself guilty as charged to all of them.

Julia noted this response down.

Sir Marcus would you please sign here and here to show you agree that you said this?

Marcus signed the statement.

Superintendent, I only ask one thing, in view of my position. No news of this must leak out until I’ve formally resigned. I’ll have to consult my Party colleagues, decide an appropriate date for the announcement and an appropriate time for it to be effective, allowing time for a leadership and a possibly several-stage election.

If I agree to this, Sir Marcus, what sort of timetable are we talking about?

Marcus thought for a moment.

I’ll use the time until the Party Conference to consult my colleagues. I’ll announce my decision at the Conference in October, and use November and December for the election, making my resignation effective on December 31st. I’ll formally surrender to you at Lewisham Police Station on January 2nd.

Do you really expect it to take that long or are you hoping I may change my mind, Sir Marcus? If you’re doing that, you couldn’t be more mistaken!

It may take a little less time – but it’ll also give the new Prime Minister a chance to get his first Cabinet sorted and some initial plans made, so he can hit the ground running.

Julia promised to hold off until his resignation was effective.

However, Sir Marcus, she added. I can’t promise you immunity from prosecution thereafter. It’s not in my power to do that. That’s a matter for the DPP.

Marcus nodded.

I understand, Superintendent. I’ve made my bed over the years, and I’ve got to lie on it – wherever it is.

Julia nodded before adding a final question.

Prime Minister, in view of what you’ve now confessed to me, why did you let Jonathan investigate this case? You must’ve seen the danger in it for you.

I didn’t think he would get far and would lose interest at the first check. I was wrong. I misjudged his tenacity, which was very foolish of me. We Greenways are all tenacious.

Marcus smiled sadly.

Also, he added. I think subconsciously I wanted to atone for what I’ve done.

I see, said Julia getting to her feet and offering her hand to Marcus. All I can say is, ‘Good luck, Sir Marcus.’

Marcus shook her hand and showed Julia out, calling Daphne to escort her to the entrance. Then he returned to his seat, poured himself another glass of brandy, and sat, head in hands, thinking. For years he had been in denial – pushing the memories of the Smith Case and his role in it to the back of his mind. Over fifty years he had used his work as an MP, then as a Cabinet Minister (or Opposition Spokesman) and finally as Prime Minister to block out his sense of guilt, a guilt that he knew was even greater than Julia suggested. However, her words smashed his defences and the past came flooding back.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

He was 19 again, newly married, with a baby son, and assisting his father in an important murder case. The Defence Barrister was speaking.

Either they were in love, and there were no witnesses to that.

There was a disturbance in the Court and a young girl ran out, sobbing. Marcus recognised her as Jennifer Brown, the fourteen-year old sister of the murdered girl – Janet. He followed her and caught her up in the foyer outside of Court One.

What’s the problem? It’s Jennifer – Janet’s sister, isn’t it? What’s upset you?

Jennifer turned to look at Marcus. She stopped crying.

You’re the son of that hateful Prosecutor, why do you care?

Because I’m his son, and not him, Marcus replied simply. What’s wrong?

Mr Corrigan said no one knew Mark and Janet were an item. He’s wrong. I knew; and I knew they were having sex and Janet was pregnant. Why can’t I say so?

With that, and before Marcus could respond, she pulled away and ran off crying, eventually taking refuge in one of the toilet cubicles. Marcus returned to his father and sat down beside him. Albert Corrigan was still addressing the Jury. Marcus turned to his father and whispered to him urgently.

Dad, we should stop this trial. Jennifer (Janet’s sister) has just confirmed Mark’s story that he and Janet were lovers. We should tell Mr Corrigan.

Sir Walter Greenway turned around to face his son. He whispered back.

It’s not our job to do the Defence’s work for them. Mr Corrigan obviously doesn’t trust Jennifer; otherwise he would’ve called her. We’ll get on with our job, and let him get on with his.

The scene changed to a path through a wood. Philip Stewart stood, feeling his jaw, hurting from where Marcus had just hit him.

Of course I killed her! he snarled. And I’ll kill your Evelyn too if necessary. Your Dad belongs to us and so do you. If we fall, so do you. If I have to, I’ll shoot Evelyn and blame you – and you can share that Nigger’s fate.

And, with that, Philip turned on his heels and walked away.

That night Marcus poured out his troubles to his father, who was unsympathetic.

Have you only just discovered that! I thought you already knew.

So you knew that Philip Stewart killed Janet, but still prosecuted Mark for a crime you knew he didn’t commit!

Of course! Someone has to pay – and he’s the one! He’s not one of us; and he knows no better.

Finally, he heard Belinda, fifty years later.

I feel betrayed by that conversation, Grandad. You’ve always treated me as an equal – but your father believed that Mark, because he was black, didn’t deserve to receive justice.

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Marcus put his head in his hands and wept. He knew he could not face the shame of what the future now held for him and his family.

2. Supper at Blackheath

August 17 2012 evening

Blackheath

Why have they all decided to come for supper at such short notice, Darling? Belinda asked. Grandma Evelyn only rang to tell me at 2. I had to take the afternoon off to buy food. It’s going to be Instant I’m afraid.

Jonathan looked up from the floor, where he was kneeling, playing with Janet (their daughter) – now approaching two.

I’m sure that’ll be fine, Darling. It must be important, or they would give us more notice.

They’ll have to put up with what I give them – that’s all!

I’m sure they will, Grandma and Grandpa understand about rushed meals.

"They might, Darling, but what about your Mum and Dad?"

Belinda gave a bowl and baby cup to Jonathan, together with a spoon.

You’ll have to feed Janet tonight, Darling. When she’s finished, call me and I’ll prepare her for bed.

Don’t worry; you do the cooking. I’ll deal with Janet.

Belinda smiled at him. Her smile was a mixture of relief and pleasure Jonathan was such a good husband and father.

Do you have any idea what this is all about, Darling? she asked.

I don’t have the faintest idea. All I know is he had an appointment with Julia this morning.

Did he make it or did she? Belinda asked.

Grandpa said she asked to see him to report on how far she’d got with the Stewart Gang Case.

Belinda first looked surprised; before swiftly looking concerned.

She wasn’t just making a report on how they’ve wound up the various cases, Jonathan. She didn’t need a meeting for that. It must be more than that!

Jonathan seated Janet in her high chair and put a spoonful of liquefied beef into her mouth before turning his head to look at Belinda.

I fear you’re right, Darling. It sounds as though the chickens have come home to roost.

Belinda was about to reply when the doorbell rang. She left Jonathan feeding Janet and opened the front door. Jonathan heard her distant voice.

I’m glad you could make it. Come in, it’s cold outside.

Jonathan heard his father’s voice.

I’m sorry we’re late. The traffic was heavy. I had difficulty finding anywhere to park. Are Mum and Dad here yet?

Not yet, Dad. Go into the Sitting Room. Jonathan’s feeding Janet, but I’m sure he’ll find you something to drink. Excuse me, though, I’m behind with the cooking.

Jonathan’s mother responded.

Don’t worry, Belinda. I know how sudden this is. So I went to the supermarket and bought something. Let’s go and work together.

The door to the Sitting Room opened and Martin Greenway entered. Jonathan stood up and embraced his father with a smile.

Welcome to the madhouse, Dad!

Martin smiled back. It seemed an age, Jonathan thought, since his father had only ever looked angrily at him. Everything had changed with the Philip Stewart trial and Jonathan and Belinda’s marriage. Much to Jonathan’s surprise, Martin had immediately taken to Belinda, and the birth of Janet sealed the deal between them.

What will you have, Dad?

What have you got, Son?

Jonathan thought for a moment – considering his rather slender stock of alcohol.

We have Brandy, Whisky or Sherry. He paused, before adding, I nearly forgot, I’ve also got a bottle of Port and we have a bottle of Pinot Noir for dinner.

I’ll have a whisky, Son. Neat, of course.

Jonathan found a glass and poured out a shot of whisky and passed it to Martin, who sat and watched him feeding Janet.

I never thought I’d see you doing that, Son. These last two years have changed you.

For the better or the worse, Dad?

For the better, certainly. Belinda has done a good job on you. You picked a fine girl there.

I’m pleased you like her, Dad. I was afraid you wouldn’t.

Why ever not? Martin asked.

Well, she’s…

…black, Martin interrupted. Yes, I know. But I don’t share your Great Grandfather’s views. He came from the old school. We’ve all learned a lot since then – and, of course, what Philip Stewart did – murdering Janet Brown and ensuring Mark Smith was hanged for it – was a great waking up call.

Jonathan finished feeding Janet and gave his daughter her cup to drink her warm milk which she always had before going to bed. He looked up at his father.

I fear we’re going to revisit the case today.

Why?

I gather Grandpa met Superintendent Donaldson at Julia’s request. She wouldn’t have met him to discuss the weather!

Martin looked distressed.

You know, Son, I was never close to your Grandpa, but that trial brought us all together in a way we’ve never been as a family. We’ve always known there was a potential cost. Perhaps now that price has to be paid.

There’s a lot more to the story, Dad, than either you or Mum know. Grandma and we found out quite a lot, but we don’t think we know the whole story. However, Grandma asked us not to talk about it because she didn’t want you or Mum upset.

Martin picked up the whisky bottle and poured another drink. Janet threw her cup on the floor and began to wriggle out of the high chair. Jonathan picked her up and, with an apology to his father, carried her out of the room and across the hall to the small bedroom, to put her to bed. As he did so, the doorbell rang again. Jonathan called to his father.

That’ll be Grandma and Grandpa, Dad. Could you let them in?

Jonathan carried his daughter into her bedroom, undressed her and put on her pyjamas before tucking her up in bed. Janet looked up at him.

Are you going to read me a story, like Mummy does, Daddy?

Jonathan smiled.

Of course, Sweetheart.

He took the large fairy story book from the shelf and opened it at random.

There once was a beautiful princess who had a wicked step mother who thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. She had a magic mirror which could answer her questions and she often asked, ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?’ and the mirror always answered, ‘Your daughter, Snow White.’ Well this made her very jealous……….

Jonathan read the story of Snow White to Janet, who, at one point, reached up to his face, pulled him down and kissed him, before settling back down. She whispered, I love you, Daddy, and then lay back to listen to the familiar story. Jonathan didn’t get beyond the point where Snow White ate the poisoned apple when he noticed his daughter was asleep. He gently closed the book, leant over and kissed Janet on her forehead.

Good night, little angel, he whispered, as he tiptoed to the door, turned the light down, and gently opened and closed the door.

Martin and Marcus looked up as Jonathan entered the sitting room.

Is my Great Granddaughter asleep already? Marcus asked. I could never get your Dad off so quickly.

Martin laughed.

That’s because you never read me the right stories.

He paused, before adding with a smile.

Perhaps you should’ve read me one of your speeches! I would’ve gone to sleep quickly enough then!

Marcus laughed.

You wouldn’t now, Martin. Jonathan writes them for me.

It was the turn of Martin to laugh.

So that’s what’s changed! I wondered why your speeches now seemed to have so much more zest in them. He looked across at Jonathan, pouring himself a brandy. So all that money we spent on Harrow wasn’t entirely wasted?

Not entirely, Dad, Jonathan agreed. But whatever you think of the message, people do at least listen to Grandpa now when he speaks!

Marcus winced theatrically.

That was cruel, Jonathan, he said.

Marcus paused for a moment before adding:

But, sadly, only too true!

Jonathan poured a second brandy for Marcus.

I’m afraid it’s not as good as your ‘Le Saux’ brandy, Grandpa. However, it’s all I’ve got.

Marcus took the glass and smiled.

Your writing may be better than mine, but my brandy’s better than yours, Grandson!

And I know what Dad feels is more important! Martin added.

All three laughed as the door opened and Evelyn entered.

Ah, Jonathan, you’re in here, she said. Belinda wondered whether, between you, you three had managed to get little Janet to bed or whether she’d proved too much for you!

Jonathan gave his Grandmother a reproachful look. Evelyn smiled back at him.

You know that hang dog look doesn’t work on me, Jonathan, she said. If you didn’t, your Grandad should’ve told you.

My son’s way of telling stories, in some ways, resembles Dad’s way of delivering speeches, Martin commented. Both send their audiences to sleep!

Evelyn laughed.

If you three have stopped scoring points off each other, Belinda and Jennifer sent me in to tell you dinner is served.

Marcus answered for all of them, as they stood to follow Evelyn to the Dining Room.

I don’t think any of us would recognise a point if it came up and bit him on the behind, Darling!

They all laughed as they left the room, each man holding a full glass in his hand.

Belinda waited for them in the Dining Room and told them where to sit before she and Jennifer brought in the Starter, prawn cocktail, which was quickly consumed and cleared away before the main meal, a fairly hot Indian lamb curry, with rice, was brought in. Once the two women were seated, Belinda began to serve the rice, while Jennifer added the curry.

I’m sorry it’s not more imaginative, Belinda said, but I had very little time to find something I could cook. Next time, I’ll do something special.

You shouldn’t apologise, Belinda dear, Marcus said. I’m the one who should apologise. I invited us all here. After we’ve eaten, I’ll explain why.

I think we can guess, Dad, Martin responded. Jonathan told me you met Julia Donaldson this morning. I can’t believe you were discussing England’s prospects in the Lord’s Test Match!

I don’t know, Martin. I suspect England might do better against South Africa than I’ll do at our Party Conference.

Yeah, yeah, Dad! You’re probably right, but somehow I doubt Superintendent Donaldson would be that interested. She doesn’t strike me as the MCC type.

Is there an MCC type? Jonathan innocently asked his father.

Martin was wondering how to answer when Belinda forestalled him.

He’d be an old fart, wearing a blazer and a tie on a boiling hot day and shouting out, ‘Well played sir!’ as an England batsman blocked a ball.

They all laughed.

The light hearted conversation continued through the first course, as Jonathan offered a choice of white or red wine and Evelyn thought how different the atmosphere at this meal was to the strained one at the Christmas Eve dinner at Chequers in 2009, when all of the sons seemed to be at odds with their fathers.

Belinda collected up the empty plates and took them to the kitchen, destined for the dishwasher, while Jennifer brought in the sweet, a shop bought apple pie and custard. This time Jonathan’s mother, Jennifer, apologised for the fact they’d cooked a ready prepared meal. However, both Belinda and Jennifer were gratified their menfolk appreciated their efforts and the hastily assembled meal was a success. As they sat back looking at the empty bowls and nearly empty wine glasses, Marcus spoke for everyone there.

Thank you Belinda and Jennifer. You’ve done marvellously under the circumstances. It was almost a five barley loaves and two small fishes time! He raised his glass. To our cooks – Jennifer and Belinda; my wonderful daughter in law and granddaughter in law.

They all drank the toast before adjourning to the Sitting Room, where the three women brought in coffee and After Eights, which Belinda had also bought that afternoon. Evelyn poured out the coffee and they all found somewhere to sit, having brought two extra chairs from the dining room. Once seated they looked expectantly at Marcus, who took his time. Eventually he began to speak.

Today, he said. I’m going to break the rule I imposed on the family 51 years ago, when I said no one should discuss the Mark Smith case in my house or in my presence.

Marcus looked around at the three generations of his family. They looked back at him in silence, waiting for him to continue. Belinda was the exception. She suddenly stood up.

Excuse me for a minute, Grandad. I’m just going to check on Janet. Please wait until I come back.

Marcus nodded, and Belinda left the room, returning a few minutes later.

She’s still sound asleep, she explained. However, she continued, You forgot to switch the intercom on, Darling.

Jonathan looked sheepish.

I’m sorry, Darling. You’re right. I did forget.

You always do, Darling, Belinda commented.

One day I’ll remember, I promise.

And, pigs might fly, Darling! Belinda added before turning to Marcus. Grandad, I’m here now, so you can continue. I shan’t have to go out again unless Janet wakes up and we’ll know that because she’ll make a noise.

Marcus smiled at her.

You’ll have to teach that husband of yours technology isn’t just computers! I suspect if he could control the intercom by his laptop he’d never forget.

You’re probably right, Grandad, Jonathan answered. Perhaps I can design something to do the job.

Marcus nodded, his smile fading to a grim expression as he began to speak.

"My problems really began, I suppose, on Christmas Eve 1959 when Evelyn and I fell in love and began a partnership which