Chapter 1

1: The Albert Hall

Friday, 28 July 1967

Percy crashed through the door to the flat and chucked his briefcase on the floor by the door. “Bloody hell!” he grumbled at Leslie. “I swear if that boy cheeks me one more time, I’m not going to be responsible for my ions!” He threw himself into the armchair closest to the table and put his hands over his face.

“The Styles boy?” Leslie asked, from his position at the table. He looked like he was already getting on with his marking. In a wild burst of impulse that Percy wouldn’t have considered without Les driving him on, they had decided to finance a summer holiday in London by getting jobs at a language school in the city. Their teaching posts at a boarding school in Oxfordshire were very different from working with adults who needed to learn English quickly, although Percy was enjoying the change. They’d rented the tiny, slightly grotty flat in Notting Hill until September and were taking in as much culture as possible in their off hours.

“Yeah, him. Little shit. He followed me up the stairs and started banging on about my shoes. What business is it of his if my shoes need mending?” He turned his foot up and looked sadly at the sole. “And how did the little bastard even see?”

“He’s not quite right,” Leslie said. “Just speak to his mother. Or was she out again?”

“Well, he was sat on the step, so either she’d kicked him out for a bit or she’s not home yet.” He sighed. “I’ll go down a bit later.” He collapsed back in the chair and put his arm over his eyes. “I hate children. Why did I think teaching would be a good career?”

“Steady pay, long holidays, rugby, possibility of accommodation with the job so no pressure to get married.” Leslie ticked off on his fingers.

Percy removed his arm from across his eyes for long enough to glare at him. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Leslie replied placidly. “There’s still tea in the pot. We’re out of sugar though.”

“Thanks.”

He hauled himself to his feet and through the arch into the tiny kitchen. “Want another one?”

“If there’s enough, yes please.”

He busied himself with the milk and managed to find the end of a packet of biscuits in the cupboard. He brought it through with the tea and put it on the table. “We need to go shopping.”

“I know. And it’s my turn. Tomorrow, I promise.”

“Did you get the tickets for tonight?” This week’s culture included the Promenade Concerts.

Leslie looked shifty. “I did. And we might have a date.”

“A date?”

“I met a chap…” He waved his hand vaguely.

“A chap?”

“At the box office.” He coughed. “We got chatting and we’re meeting at the Albert Hall tonight. We got talking about Elgar…” He trailed off, clearly already running The Dream of Gerontiusthrough his head.

Percy raised an eyebrow at him and he came back to earth.

“He and his friend are going. I said we’d meet them.”

“His friend?”

“Well, yes. But heasked me, honestly. Suggested supper somewhere afterward.”

“Bloody hell, Les! You’re going to end up in the clink if you’re not careful!”

“Ha! Not anymore!” Leslie chimed back at him. “Not since the beginning of the month!”

“Still! You need to be careful. We don’t want it getting back to school.” Percy was quite cross with him. “And it’s not like everything is suddenly fine and out in the open. The only means they can’t bang you up for messing around with someone at home, not that they won’t try and nab you if you’re out for a quickie somewhere.”

“Nothing quick about this chap!” Leslie smiled lasciviously. “I’m going to take my time with him.” He looked over at Percy again. “He’s a stockbroker, he said. Nice looking. Bit older than you, I should think. Late thirties? Good suit.”

“Oh, well, that’s all right then. You can be in the dock with him in the morning and know he’s well turned out, at least!”

Leslie grimaced at him. “Anyway. He seemed really nice. It was a classy kind of pick-up. Very subtle.”

“Well, I suppose that’s something.”

“Gerontius, Perce! This is the point of this summer. We’re supposed to be expanding our horizons as well as earning a bit more dosh.”

Percy sighed. “I’ll go and get changed. Is there enough bread for toast?”

“I’ll put some in. We’ve got an hour before we need to leave.”

* * * *

The mill and press of the crowd of promenaders entering the Albert Hall wasn’t as bad as Percy had expected. Leslie dragged him through the throng with determination, toward an extremely well-turned-out couple, standing outside the Kensington Grove entrance and from a distance having what looked like an argument.