Clifton glanced at him and then turned back to his cages. ‘You’re preaching revolution, Renthall,’ he said quietly, a forefinger stroking the beak of one of the canaries. Pointedly, he refrained from seeing Renthall to the door.
Writing the doctor off, Renthall rested for a few minutes in his room, pacing up and down the strip of faded carpet, then went down to the basement to see the manager, Mulvaney.
‘I’m only making some initial inquiries. As yet I haven’t applied for permission, but Dr Clifton thinks the idea is excellent, and there’s no doubt we’ll get it. Are you up to looking after the catering?’
Mulvaney’s sallow face watched Renthall sceptically. ‘Of course I’m up to it, but how serious are you?’ He leaned against his roll-top desk. ‘You think you’ll get permission? You’re wrong, Mr Renthall, the Council wouldn’t stand for the idea. They even closed the cinema, so they’re not likely to allow a public party. Before you know what you’d have people dancing.’
‘I hardly think so, but does the idea appal you so much?’
Mulvaney shook his head, already bored with Renthall. ‘You get a permit, Mr Renthall, and then we can talk seriously.’
Tightening his voice, Renthall asked: ‘Is it necessary to get the Council’s permission? Couldn’t we go ahead without?’
Without looking up, Mulvaney sat down at his desk. ‘Keep trying, Mr Renthall, it’s a great idea.’
During the next few days Renthall pursued his inquiries, in all approaching some half-dozen people. In general he met with the same negative response, but as he intended he soon noticed a subtle but nonetheless distinct quickening of interest around him. The usual fragmentary murmur of conversation would fade away abruptly as he passed the tables in the dining room, and the service was fractionally more prompt. Hanson no longer took coffee with him in the mornings, and once Renthall saw him in guarded conversation with the town clerk’s secretary, a young man called Barnes. This, he assumed, was Hanson’s contact.
In the meantime the activity in the watch-towers remained at zero. The endless lines of towers hung down from the bright, hazy sky, the observation windows closed, and the people in the streets below sank slowly into their usual mindless torpor, wandering from hotel to library to caf. Determined on his course of action, Renthall felt his confidence return.
Allowing an interval of a week to elapse, he finally called upon Victor Boardman.
The bootlegger received him in his office above the cinema, greeting him with a wry smile.
‘Well, Mr Renthall, I hear you’re going into the entertainment business. Drunken gambols and all that. I’m surprised at you.’
‘A fte,’ Renthall corrected. The seat Boardman had offered him faced towards the window — deliberately, he guessed and provided an uninterrupted view of the watch-tower over the roof of the adjacent furniture store. Only forty feet away, it blocked off half the sky. The metal plates which formed its rectangular sides were annealed together by some process Renthall was unable to identify, neither welded nor riveted, almost as if the entire tower had been cast in situ. He moved to another chair so that his back was to the window.
‘The school is still closed, so I thought I’d try to make myself useful. That’s what I’m paid for. I’ve come to you because you’ve had a good deal of experience.’
‘Yes, I’ve had a lot of experience, Mr Renthall. Very varied. As one of the Council’s employees, I take it you have its permission?’
Renthall evaded this. ‘The Council is naturally a conservative body, Mr Boardman. Obviously at this stage I’m acting on my own initiative. I shall consult the Council at the appropriate moment later, when I can offer them a practicable proposition.’
Boardman nodded sagely. ‘That’s sensible, Mr Renthall. Now what exactly do you want me to do? Organize the whole thing for you?’
‘No, but naturally I’d be very grateful if you would. For the present I merely want to ask permission to hold the fte on a piece of your property.’
‘The cinema? I’m not going to take all those seats out, if that’s what you’re after.’
‘Not the cinema. Though we could use the bar and cloakrooms,’ Renthall extemporized, hoping the scheme did not sound too grandiose. ‘Is the old beer-garden next to the car park your property?’
For a moment Boardman was silent. He watched Renthall shrewdly, picking his nails with his cigar-cutter, a faint suggestion of admiration in his eyes. ‘So you want to hold the fte in the open, Mr Renthall? Is that it?’
Renthall nodded, smiling back at Boardman. ‘I’m glad to see you living up to your reputation for getting quickly to the point. Are you prepared to lend the garden? Of course, you’ll have a big share of the profits. In fact, if it’s any inducement, you can have all the profits.’
Boardman put out his cigar. ‘Mr Renthall, you’re obviously a man of many parts. I underestimated you. I thought you merely had a grievance against the Council. I hope you know what you’re doing.’
