The Queen's Envoy (The Barsetshire Diaries) Read online

  I'm sure I must have sighed with relief which no doubt made him more suspicious, but it was too late; I grabbed my suitcase and was gone.

  Julia met me at the gate and we hugged. “I just asked where you were”, she told me, “and some funny little chap carrying a box of latex gloves said he'd find out”. I hugged my saviour again.

  On the journey home we chatted about my trip. I said I had been unsuccessful but couldn't understand what I'd done wrong, and why Ibrahim hadn't found time to speak to me. I told her all about the people I'd met and all about little Suki.

  “I'm sure you did your very best my dear”, she told me comfortingly.

  "My best was obviously not good enough", I replied."Sir Bertram will no doubt be disappointed and will never ask me to represent the government again".

  We arrived home at about five and in a spontaneous burst, picked up Ysabel and went for a pizza. Lady J told me that while I'd been gone she'd engaged a housekeeper called Grizelda who would start on the following day.

  When we got in I said I wanted an early night, gave the girls their gifts and went to unpack my case and hide the cigarettes.

  Monday January, 28, 1991

  The Thought of Murder

  It was about 8.00 am when I felt a presence by my bed. I realised dimly that I had not taken Lady J her coffee, and in a semi panic swung my legs out of bed with my eyes still closed. I heard a sharp intake of breath and opened my eyes. There stood a strange woman trying desperately to avert her eyes as I made an equally desperate attempt to reach my dressing gown with my toes and slip it on. I managed it.

  Before I could ask the woman who she was and what she wanted in my bedroom, she spoke.

  “Telephone, My Lord. It's a Sir Bertram and he said it's urgent”.

  I went to the phone, realisation slowly dawning that this must be Grizelda.

  “David, old chap, I'll be with you at nine o'clock, OK?” Without waiting for a reply he hung up leaving me spluttering.

  Grizelda informed me that Lady Julia had gone to 'er 'orse and asked if I'd like a coffee. I thanked her and said that that would be very nice and asked her to leave it in the lounge for me. I'd get it when I came back from dressing.

  I showered and dressed quickly and by 8:55 I was enjoying my coffee in the lounge. A knock at the door came and I saw Grizelda go to answer it. Within moments she was back with Sir Bertram in tow.

  I was ready to apologise for my lack of success in Beritana when he stopped me in my tracks.

  “Congratulations, my dear chap”, he said, “Her Majesty's Government is in your debt. We couldn't believe you managed it so quickly. Sultan Ibrahim asked me to pass on his thanks for the attention you paid his daughter who was, it seems, captivated with you. Beritana will welcome you at any time”.

  “Ah, hm, it was nothing”, I said, a little bemused. I'd managed it. How? However, grateful that I'd somehow managed to succeed in the mission, I didn't voice that thought.

  Sir Bertram repeated his thanks and asked if I'd be willing to undertake further missions. He seemed delighted when I agreed. I was delighted that he'd asked. He shook hands and left, promising to be in touch.

  When Julia returned I was still all smiles and able to tell her of my success.

  “I already know my dear”, she said, “I had a call when you left Beritana from someone called Mustapha Phag. He said he'd forgotten to tell you of the decision, but I thought I'd better wait until you heard officially”.

  I thought for a moment that this would be a justifiable reason for murder.

  Wednesday, January 30, 1991

  The Theft of Socks

  The day dawned bleak and cold. For me, it also dawned far too early. I couldn't tell the exact time as I was unable to open my eyes. This was due to the fact that the cat had his nose, very cold and very wet, against one of them. There were two paws with needle sharp claws holding on to my cheeks and a further two either side of my Adam's apple. Movement was not an option and yet I'm sure that's what he had in mind, as the nose seemed to be prodding my eye and the miaow I could hear was reaching fever pitch. I was between a rock and a hard place - he wanted me to move, I wanted to move, but movement would leave me open to several piercings and facial disfigurement. Gradually I started to move my head sideways in the hope he'd just step off onto a pillow. With a quick backhanded swipe at my nose, he did. I managed to force open my eyes to see a very indignant cat standing there. I took the hint and got up.

  After I'd washed his dishes I laid out new food and took it through to the utility room where his (unused) bed is, and where we feed him. Just behind the door I noticed a dark mass. On checking it I found it to be made up of pairs of my socks now covered in a layer of grey cat hair. He'd obviously been stealing them from the washing basket and making a bed. I noticed two things:

  1. They were all laundered socks.

  2. Only my socks were there.

  I didn’t yet understand the significance of this.

  At seven o'clock I took a bucket of coffee through to Lady J and called Ysabel for school. If Julia was going to the stables today she would drop Ysabel off on the way.

  It was just coming up to eight o'clock when the fun began. Oscar started crying in the special tone he uses that tells us he's about to throw up (usually on the Chinese rug or someone's bed). At the same time I saw the postman approach with a parcel and I went to open the door for him. I had just reached the door and opened it with my hand held out ready for the parcel when Julia reached the door (which she thought I'd opened for her) holding an armful of cat which she propelled outside. I'm not sure who was most surprised. The postman who got an armful of howling cat in exchange for the parcel, Julia when she saw she'd just thrown a cat at someone or Oscar himself to find a stranger holding him.

  Time stood still for a moment and then Oscar dropped to the floor and promptly kept his promise by throwing up directly where the postman's shoe would have been had he not backed off in shock just in time.

  With a distinctly sour 'Hrrumph' the postman turned and walked away. I'd like to have been a fly on the wall when he returned to the depot later. I can imagine him saying, “And these maniacs threw a cat at me”.

  Julia went to get something to clean the mess off the step. Oscar walked back in as though nothing had happened and settled in my chair. I walked in and opened my parcel.

  At 8.30 am Lady J and Ysabel kissed me goodbye and left. Grizelda arrived and made me a coffee so I decided to check my mail on the computer. My mail box was chock a block so I started answering in date of receipt.

  There were quite a few messages from friends and a few invitations to answer. I also had adverts and offers galore.

  How on earth had I managed all this time without the benefits of a man-girdle to give me back the shape of my youth? If it came to that, how did they know that I wasn’t a youth, and therefore still have my shape?

  There was a competition to win a car for which only my entrance fee of £20.00 was needed.

  There was the opportunity to become a millionaire by helping Jacob O'Malley of Nigeria transfer his fortune from a locked account in the Seychelles. All I had to do was provide my account details for his bank and act as a guarantor that he was real. I could phone his bank on a mobile number to check his story. Yes, folks, I had just got off the banana boat the day before, I was bound to fall for that one.

  One that surprised me was an invitation to join a pyramid selling scheme. Who God’s earth was going to buy a pyramid? Did these people think me stupid? Answers on a postcard please.

  One offer I ignored was for the berry of a wonder bush that would replace food for those on a diet. The bush grew in the back of the darkest cave, on the highest mountain that's lit by moonlight only on the first Thursday of every month. I mean, it was bound to be endangered if it were that rare wasn’t it? I decided to pass!

  Answering or ignoring my mail took me till noon. Grizelda asked if I'd like lunch but I decided to wait until Lady J returned. Within fi
fteen minutes she had. I asked if she'd like to go out for lunch and she jumped at the chance. I wasn't sure if that was an indication that she felt neglected or if it was a reflection on Grizelda's cooking.

  We drove up to town and had a snack at The Plumbers, a little café that used to be a builders’ merchants. They do such specials as 'Chicken Bolt-i' and 'U-bend sausage rolls' but we settled for ham and tomato sandwiches with a coffee each.

  Julia told me that she was pleased my trip had been a success and that she hoped I'd do it again. She added that it was only because it had seemed to interest me and not that she wanted to get rid of me.

  From there we drove home in time for Ysabel's return from school. As she had no homework we settled to a game of scrabble which Ysabel won with the word RAZZ using a blank and getting on a triple word score. I'm still not sure about that word but she was adamant that it was real. After dinner we watched the re-run of an old comedy series until bedtime.

  I then went to bed myself where I made sure that the door was shut, so that the decision of when to get up in the morning would be mine.

  Monday, November 25, 1991

  Bertie Returns

  At 9.10 am I got a telephone call to ask me to be at home and available for ten o'clock. There would be only one person who would ask for such a thing at short notice and sure enough at ten o'clock Sir Bertram Threadneedle knocked at the door.

  Grizelda showed him through to the lounge and then furnished us both with a coffee.

  “No Lady J?” he asked.

  “Due back soon but currently with the horse”, I replied. “She only shows her face here long enough so that we don't let her room out”.

  “Good”, he said surprisingly. “I have a mission for you, David, that is a little delicate and possibly a little dangerous”.

  “Oh”, I said, “and why delicate?”

  “Because it involves a woman, David, and I don't know how Lady J will feel”.

  “I'm sure she'll understand whatever it is, Bertie. Above all she trusts me”.

  He explained that he required me to fly to a place called Sanliurfa in Anatolia. There I would find a man who had set himself up as an old style Turkish pasha complete with a harem. The daughter of an important colonel in the British Army had gone missing in the area and it was possible that this chap had abducted her. I was needed to visit the area and see what I could find out.

  Obviously I agreed to go, and as time was of the essence for this poor girl I agreed to leave the next day for Istanbul.

  Sir Bertram had somehow anticipated this and handed me tickets and cash for the journey and for any bribes I needed to make. After giving me a folder containing details of the mission, he offered me his hand and left.

  At noon Lady J arrived home. I asked Grizelda to prepare us some soup and took Julia through to the dining room ready. The soup arrived and Grizelda left us to eat in peace. I started to tell Julia all about the visit. She appeared to be far from surprised and merely said she wondered why it had taken them so long to use me again. All was going well until I mentioned the reason for the mission. “A woman”, she said with arched eyebrows. “How close will you have to get to her?”

  “I have no idea”, I replied, “as close as circumstances warrant I suppose”.

  “I want no hanky-panky, David”, she told me, which was a bit of a shock as I'd never looked at another woman since my marriage.

  “Yes, my dear”, seemed to be the only answer I could muster.

  During the evening I packed a case and explained to Ysabel that I would be going away but would be back in time for her birthday on December 8th.

  Tuesday, November 26, 1991

  The Frosty Reception

  Julia ran me to the airport in the morning. I wasn’t quite sure what I'd done wrong but the atmosphere on the journey left icicles in my beard. When we arrived I tried to introduce a thaw by saying how much I'd miss her while away and already couldn't wait to get back. That elicited a 'Hmmph', a quick hug and then she was gone. I'd thought she was happy for me to take on these little jobs.

  Inside the airport I showed my passport and ticket and was sent through to the departure lounge where I was able to get some duty-free cigarettes. I had a cup of tea while I waited for the flight to be called. There were lots of children in the lounge and as my flight was called, I saw a group of three playing a game of leap-frog. Passing them, I leaped over the one playing frog. Unfortunately I must have been heavier than I thought, as he went crashing to the ground. I spent minutes apologising to him and then to the irate parents before I was able to board the plane. My feeling of guilt intensified when the stewardess told me my ticket had been upgraded.

  The flight to Istanbul was quite long, just over eight hours. When I arrived I was held up in customs while they compared the face in my passport to my actual face. There were lots of grunts and glances back and forth before they were finally assured that I was me. Then they started on my suitcase. It must have taken them ten minutes to rifle through it, though it wasn't large.

  I found a taxi outside the terminal and asked the driver to take me to a nice hotel.

  There I was at the 'Moulin Rouge' which was a name I hadn’t been expecting to find here. The Toulouse Lautrec posters looked strange outside but scarier still was the manager who looked exactly like the painter.

  I had a drink and a meal in the restaurant and suffered a 'cancan' cabaret while I ate. Then I went up to my room from where I phoned the local museum and was lucky to find an English speaker. I explained that I was going to Sanliurfa to view the excavations nearby and asked if there were someone they could recommend who could help an English Lord there. After a little muttering in the background, the man told me there was a local lord in Sanliurfa who would know best. Would I like his telephone number?

  Thanking them profusely I took the name and number which matched the ones I already had and I phoned. Luck still on my side, I got through to him personally. I explained that the museum in Istanbul had said that he may be able to help me find a suitable hotel and perhaps a good guide who knew the excavations. Not only did I get an invitation to visit but also to stay with him for a week, starting the next day.

  I opened my case to get changed for bed and found that all my toiletries and my books had gone and my cigarettes had vanished. For a moment I wondered if Julia had arranged it.

  Now I was going to get some sleep.

  Wednesday November 27, 1991

  The Perils of Prunella

  The plane ride to Sanliurfa was rough, and so was the company. There were only eight seats on the plane which looked as though Von Richtofen might have been the last pilot. Each seat, bar mine, was occupied by rough unshaven men and even more unshaven women with an assortment of livestock on their knees. There were chickens and pigs and on my knee a goat. The pilot arrived. He looked bleary eyed and didn’t appear to have shaved for a week, but he got the plane up and we arrived safely.

  Outside the small airport building were three taxis. Seeing me emerge from the building all three drivers rushed over and tried simultaneously to grab my case. They were all jabbering in a dialect I didn't understand (I don’t speak anything other than English and some schoolboy French). One of them eventually tried, “You H'Engerlish Mister?” which got enough of a response from me for him to grab the case and shoo away the others.

  “Manchester United”, he said, knowing that even I must understand that.

  “Yes”, I said.

  “Where you go?” he asked.

  “To Pasha Mehmet”, I replied and I saw his face harden for a moment before he ushered me into his car.

  “You friend Mehmet?” he asked.

  “No”, I answered, “but I'm a guest who wants to see the archaeological diggings here”.

  “Ah”, he said as if that answered everything.

  “My name Selim, you need car you call. I show you around”. At which point he passed me a grubby card with his name and phone number and then started the engine.<
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  Our journey to Mehmet's took almost an hour during which time Selim was smiling again and pointing out places of interest to me. Eventually we could see what looked like an old crusader fort atop a large hill. Selim pointed it out as our destination. His method of pointing didn't fill me full of confidence as he raised both hands from the wheel, said “Mehmet there”, and spat out of the window. He refused to drive through the gate as we drew up so I paid him there using American dollars and ensuring a big tip.

  “You call if you need, ANYTIME”, he emphasised, and drove off.

  As he did so, the largest man I'd ever seen approached me. He must have been fully 6'6” tall and almost as wide. There were cascades of fat over the top of his pants and his little waistcoat barely reached his sides. He was also completely bald. He bowed to me, picked up my case as though it weighed an ounce and gestured me to follow without a word.

  We went through the gateway and across a large square where I could see guards in each corner carrying machine guns. In the centre was a fountain with a light display that looked out of place in such bleak surroundings.

  We entered a large building on the far side of the square and my guide pointed towards a room using one hand to indicate that I should enter. He went off with my case.

  I entered the room which was richly furnished with antiques from all parts of the world and with stands bearing what were obviously antiquities.

  “Greetings, Lord Bouldnor”, I heard, and glancing towards a chair at the fireplace saw an arm inviting me forward.

  There in the chair I found Mehmet. He was probably no more than five feet tall and though he had a full head of hair, he was almost as rotund as his servant.