Page 289 of Edge of Eternity (The Century 3)

He sat in the kitchen and watched Anna make Hank his favorite food, a fried-potato sandwich. "How's your work?" he asked her, making small talk.

"Wonderful," she said, and her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm. "I've discovered a new writer, a Russian dissident. I don't even know his real name, but he's a genius. I'm publishing his stories set in a Siberian prison camp. The title is Frostbite."

"Doesn't sound like much of a laugh."

"It is funny in parts, but it will break your heart. I'm having it translated right now."

Jasper was skeptical. "Who wants to read about people in a prison camp?"

"The whole world," said Anna. "You wait and see. How about you--do you know what you'll do after graduation?"

"I've been offered a job as junior reporter on the Western Mail, but I don't want to take it. I've been editor and publisher of my own paper, for Christ's sake."

"Did you get any replies from America?"

"One," said Jasper.

"Only one? What did they say?"

Jasper took the letter out of his pocket and showed it to her. It was from a television news show called This Day.

Anna read it. "It just says they don't hire people without an interview. How disappointing."

"I plan to take them at their word."

"What do you mean?"

Jasper pointed to the address on the letterhead. "I'm going to show up at their office with this letter in my hand and say: 'I've come for my interview.'"

Anna laughed. "They'll have to admire your cheek."

"There's only one snag." Jasper swallowed. "I need ninety pounds for the airfare. And I've only got twenty."

She lifted a basket of potatoes out of the fryer and set them to drain. Then she looked at Jasper. "Is that why you've come here?"

He nodded. "Can you lend me seventy pounds?"

"Certainly not," she said. "I don't have seventy pounds. I'm a book editor. That's almost a month's salary."

Jasper had known that would be the answer. But it was not the end of the conversation. He gritted his teeth and said: "Can you get it from Hank?"

Anna layered the fried potatoes on a slice of buttered white bread. She sprinkled malt vinegar over them, then salted them heavily. She put a second slice of bread on top, then cut the sandwich in halves.

Hank walked in, tucking his shirt into a pair of orange corduroy hipster trousers. His long red hair was wet from the shower. "Hi, Jasper," he said with his usual cordiality. Then he kissed Anna and said: "Wow, baby, something smells good."

Anna said: "Hank, this could be the most expensive sandwich you will ever eat."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Dave Williams was looking forward to meeting his notorious grandfather, Lev Peshkov.

Plum Nellie were on the road in the States in the autumn of 1965. The All-Star Touring Beat Revue gave performers a hotel room every second night. Alternate nights were spent on the bus.

They would do a show, get on the bus at midnight, and drive to the next city. Dave never slept properly on the bus. The seats were uncomfortable and there was a smelly toilet at the back. The only refreshment was a cooler full of sugary soda pop supplied free by Dr Pepper, the sponsor of the tour. A soul group from Philadelphia called the Topspins ran a poker game on the bus: Dave lost ten dollars one night and never played again.

In the morning they would arrive at a hotel. If they were lucky, they could check in right away. If not, they had to hang around the lobby, bad-tempered and unwashed, waiting for last night's guests to vacate their rooms. They would do the next evening's show, spend the night at the hotel, and get back on the bus in the morning.

Plum Nellie loved it.

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