Flying a Kite

By Ian Kingsley

Money always solved everything for multi-millionaire Aldo Galliano. So when faced with imminent death and the need to decide between cryonic preservation - with its hope of subsequent revival - and plain faith in God and an afterlife, he offers a £1m prize for the most convincing argument either 'for' or 'against' the existence of God. The snag is, he only has 6 months to live, which piles the pressure on. That kind of prize money is enough to focus any mind. Enter Bruce Kramer, a dropout theology graduate, who sees a ‘win-win’ opportunity to consolidate his religious leanings with science. He aims to reveal links between creation and evolution by scientifically explaining mysteries as diverse as the Garden of Eden story, the wise men's guiding star, and where Heaven might really be. But dangerous rivals with Mafia connections aim to prevent his success.

With locations including Bath, Rome, Lake Garda, Tenerife, Los Angeles and Santa Barbara, this fascinating novel draws the reader deeply into the excitement of Bruce's squabbling research team, his untimely romantic entanglements, and the compelling theories pursued by a cast of engaging but eccentric characters. Subtly combining the spiritual discernment of C. S. Lewis, the humour and rich characterisation of Peter Carey, and all the twists and turns of a mystery thriller, the author brings us an entertaining and unforgettable tale. But beware. Like one of Galliano's favourite lattes, while everything might appear frothy on the surface, a high caffeine brew lurks deep below that may keep you awake at night... thinking. And that’s the least of it. It might also change your outlook on life – and death!

This novel was first published in paperback.

REVIEWS:

"Fluid, smooth and flows at a lovely pace. Really engaging from the start. Like 'The Shack', there is a niche for this kind of book."
–Gillian McDade (journalist and author of 'Standing Man')

"A wonderful, well written and entertaining novel that demonstrates the reality of an afterlife and that science and creation are complementary. It will no doubt open the minds of many that there is so much more to life than that witnessed by the six senses. "
–William Roache, MBE (Actor)

"Addresses a universal question in a much better way than Dan Brown in ‘Angels and Demons’, where the God versus science debate is just another sub-plot in another ciphering book. In ‘Flying a Kite’ it's the main plot thread, convincingly dealt with and riveting."
–Richard Pierce (author of ‘Dead Men’)

"Fluent, graphic writing and excellent use of description. Characters come alive through captivating dialogue."
–Elijah Iwuji (author of ‘Praying in the Will of God’

"Ian Kingsley's 'Flying a Kite' clearly documents the literary talent of its author. Deftly written, original, genuinely entertaining, iconoclastic, 'Flying a Kite' is a rewarding and entertaining read from beginning to end and highly recommended for personal and community library Contemporary Fiction collections. Of special note is the author's own website at iankingsley.com that is packed with helpful information for aspiring writers seeking to create their own memorable literary works." –Jack Mason (Midwest Book Review)

"Characters are direct and effective. I enjoyed the pace which allowed the reader to think about important concepts by himself."
-Heikki Hietala (author of ‘Tulagi Hotel’)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ian Kingsley
• Release date: Jul 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310769443

Ian Kingsley

I wanted to write from a very young age, and fiction was always the aim. But non-fiction came first: articles, and my first technical work, were published before I left school.I began work in research and development in the field of semiconductor research, where I developed a keen interest in technology. I then became a chartered engineer and designed electronic equipment for the disabled. The next step was to combine my interests by becoming a technical author and then a technical publications manager: a role I had for many years. During this part of my career I published a number of technical books under a different name. After that, I finally got around to publishing fiction.My debut novel, a psychological thriller called ‘Sandman’, was published in 2010, followed by my non-fiction work ‘Reality Check: Science Meets Religion’, in 2011. The latter stemmed from a desire to ratify apparent differences between science and religion. Then back to contemporary fiction, with 'Flying a Kite' in 2013, using underlying ideas connected with man's desire to know the so-called "meaning of life" - but with a thriller twist! My latest novel, a mystery thriller called 'The Grave Concerns of Jennifer Lloyd', was published in 2016.My author website, iankingsley.com, contains further information about all these works, together with a collation of book reviews.Would you like a free eBook or pdf copy of one of my books in return for a 28 day promise to review? If so, check out the following page on my website: http://www.iankingsley.com/books/jennifer-lloyd/review-copy-requests.phpYou can contact me via the email address given on my website or join 35,000+ of my followers on Twitter where I tweet daily as @authorkingsley. It would be great to meet you there. (Hint: That's where I sometimes offer Smashwords discount coupons!)

Book preview

Flying a Kite

by

Ian Kingsley

Published in 2016 by Synergise.com

Copyright © Ian Kingsley, 2016

Cover image © iStockphoto.com/chuwy

Smashwords Edition 1

This book is also available in paperback

Ian Kingsley has asserted the moral right under the

Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified

as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please delete it and purchase your own copy.

All real people referred to within this novel are identified by their name. All the novel’s other characters, their names, their personalities, and all incidents involving them, are entirely the work of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance between these fictional characters and actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

FICTION CATEGORIES:

Metaphysical and Visionary;

Religious and Inspirational;

Contemporary; General.

Author’s website: iankingsley.com

I would like to thank Jak Brienhead, Jo Carroll, Heikki Hietala, John Houghton, Elijah Iwuji, Heather Jacobs, Lissa Lander, Anne Lyken-Garner, Gillian McDade, Marit Meredeth, Richard Pierce, Lucie Roberts and Walter Robson for their helpful comments and encouragement.

My End Notes confirm how indebted I am to so many other authors who have produced works affecting the underlying factual matter upon which this novel is based. Of these, I would particularly like to highlight the following as being significant: Roger A. Anderson, J. F. Blumrich, Dr. C. George Boeree, Francis Collins, Stephen Hawking, Robert Jastrow, Raymond Moody, Paramahansa Yogananda; also Arnold Toynbee and his numerous co-authors of Man’s Concern with Death.

Lastly, but by no means least, I would like to thank my wife, Hazel, for eternal patience during the writing of many drafts, and my daughter, Alison, for kindly slotting proofreading into her very busy schedule.

To the memory of Eddie, the father I never knew—lost in a plane crash a few months before I was born—and to Archie, my grandfather, the only father I ever knew. I shall meet them together one day—for heaven is but a heartbeat away.

"Science without religion is lame;

religion without science is blind."

When the solution is simple, God is answering.

–Albert Einstein

About the Author

Ian Kingsley was born in Peterborough, England, and has lived for most of his life in Bournemouth, on the south coast. A chartered engineer, he has written a number of non-fiction works about science and technology. He began work in semiconductor research and development, designed electronic equipment for the disabled, combined his interests in technology and writing as a technical publications manager producing hardware and software handbooks for the armed services and industry, and then worked as a webmaster of his own travel website before concentrating on writing. His life-long interest in metaphysics stems from the questioning nature of his work in R&D. He is married with two children and four grandchildren. Details of his current books and social media involvement are to be found on his website at iankingsley.com. He loves to hear from readers via his website.

Contents

Copyright

About the Author

More than just fiction!

1 A Little Challenge

2 A Most Unusual Job Interview

3 Galliano’s Gauntlet

4 Bruce’s Challenge

5 Opening Gambit

6 Team Building

7 Prestigious Premises

8 Making Plans

9 Creative Thinking

10 The Riddle of God

11 The Riddle of Self

12 Reality and Free Will

13 Bruce has a Chat with God

14 Carla Has a Surprise for Bruce

15 One Crisis After Another

16 Creation and Evolution

17 Unexpected Discoveries

18 Occam's Razor

19 A Christmas Star

20 Revelation

Epiphany

End Notes

More than just fiction!

This light-hearted novel is about people with ordinary problems and romantic entanglements. They just happen to get caught up in a serious quest to establish whether or not there is a God and an afterlife. Their conclusions—based on science and logic—are therefore of some significance to us all. That is why this tale is much more than fiction.

Bruce Kramer is tasked by a dying multi-millionaire to provide convincing evidence, one way or the other. Given over half the world’s population believe in God, and all technological societies accept modern science, Bruce believes neither can be substantially wrong. So he strives to find a logical viewpoint proving them both right: a consolidation of faith and science whereby an afterlife is a realistic prospect. A big prize is at stake. Despite a 6-month deadline, and dangerous rivals who will stop at nothing to prevent his success, everyone manages to retain a sense of humour in a tale which is hopefully as entertaining as it is thought-provoking. And, I can assure you, it has a plot with as many twists as a corkscrew!

I include End Notes showing the foundation upon which my character’s findings are based. You can happily ignore these notes and simply enjoy the story; fiction is easier-going than fact. But if any pique your interest and you want to know the factual basis, click the numbered note within the text to read a little more; often this provides an internet link. But what if you’re not online? Jot down the number of the note and then visit the online version of the End Notes. At their head is a link to find these online. Since some online links go dead with time, I have made an effort to find alternatives in the online version, and these are clearly marked as such. This eBook contains a few revised link destinations to make it as up-to-date as possible, but rely on the online End Notes for best results—and please let me know via the email address on my website if you find any problems with that; I will then amend the online version.

Reading fiction is always about suspending disbelief. So if you doubt science could ever complement religion, please also suspend that disbelief; I hope to change that perception! And the End Notes are where fact meets fiction.

I hope you enjoy following mankind’s ultimate quest. Some 2,000 years on, we are obviously more knowledgeable about the world around us than the authors of the Bible. Yet we still undertake our own interpretation of the evidence and settle on a personal belief system; we are all flying a kite. Do let me know if this book helps to strengthen—or even awaken—your belief. Please tell others if it does, in the hope it might also help them. My protagonist seeks to show religion and science are complementary, that there is a meaning to life, and that God does exist—alongside your free will. I believe we all need that reassurance in this troubled age.

–Ian Kingsley, 2016

1

A Little Challenge

As Bruce struggled to scoop ice into drinks using his free hand, two frozen cubes escaped and bounced on the floor beneath the optics. They skittered in a hollow dance across the tiles, much to the amusement of one of the barmaids who kicked them to the far end of the bar. Bruce ignored her noisy giggles and concentrated on the phone held in his other hand.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s hard to hear you, Mr. Galliano. There’s a lot of background noise here.’ He grimaced at the barmaid, laid down the scoop and replaced the ice bucket lid. ‘All I really wanted to know was the job title. I hoped your secretary could tell me without troubling you, sir.’

‘Is no trouble, Mr. Kramer. She thought I explain better.’ The thick accent confirmed Bruce’s suspicion his potential employer was almost certainly Italian. ‘Sometimes we hire good people and then tailor best possible job for them afterwards. I have many companies, you see. Many possibilities. This way we can match person perfectly to role.’ Galliano paused for a moment. ‘After three-month trial to assess their skills. During which time I like to stretch them a little. You think this a good way, no?’

‘I suppose it is,’ said Bruce. ‘It’s an interesting approach.’

‘I find this work very well. I set them a little challenge. Maybe difficult goal to achieve. Test their… mettle. Is that right, Mr. Kramer? I am not very good at English, you see. I am Italian. Is right: mettle?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘But not metal like iron or steel, I think.’ Galliano chuckled briefly and then paused, perhaps to allow his message to sink in. ‘So, can you rise to a challenge, Mr. Kramer? Does this thought put you off, maybe?’

‘No, no, not at all. I like a challenge.’ Bruce grimaced to himself and then edged through the door at the back of the bar to get out of the sight of a gesticulating customer. This job opportunity sounded scary and promising in equal measures, but his heart leapt at the chance of finally getting proper employment. Perhaps he might now gain a sense of direction. Nothing he’d done since graduating from Cambridge had really appealed so far. He could hardly believe his luck that a general CV on an online recruitment database had opened up such a promising job prospect right there in Bath. Even better, this job now sounded lucrative. For who would take such an unusual approach to recruiting and then pay peanuts? He now felt convinced it was a senior position that would put bar work into its true perspective. His only concern was the fact he’d concealed his present job by making it look as if his previous position in finance was still ongoing. But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. ‘I’m very much looking forward to discussing this further next week, Mr. Galliano.’

‘I, too, Mr. Kramer. I am very interested in your background. I have a proposal I think might excite you. So have a nice weekend in the meantime.’

‘You know the rules, Bruce. No calls on duty.’ Bruce looked up nervously when the booming voice of the bar manager assailed him as he came through from the kitchen. His bony finger and cocked thumb resembled a revolver; this gesture, combined with the other’s heavily-gelled black hair and beady eyes, conjured up the mental picture of an assassin. The manager then jerked both his head and thumb towards the bar. ‘Come on, move it, Bruce. There are customers waiting out there. No time for chit-chat.’

Bruce covered the mouthpiece and wished he could call his manager a prat. ‘I’m sorry, Jake. I’ll be right there.’ He spoke into the phone again. ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Galliano. Sorry to have troubled you. I’ll see you next week.’ He ended the call and slid the mobile phone into his pocket. With the manager leering at him, and the tantalising prospect of a more promising job in his heart, Bruce bit back resignation from his lips and breezed back into the bar. There he gathered up the drinks he’d already prepared and delivered them to his impatient customer with a flourish. ‘Your drinks, sir. Sorry about the delay.’ He put on what he hoped was a disarming smile. ‘I was looking for more ice. I’m afraid we’re a bit short. But they’re not too bad, are they? Have a nice day.’

It was hard not to laugh when Jake skidded several inches on an ice cube.

Contemplating the challenge he had in mind for Bruce Kramer put a broad smile on Aldo Galliano’s face after he replaced his handset. He was annoyed when his reverie was interrupted a moment later by the phone buzzing and his secretary informing him of an incoming call.

‘Thank you, Daisy.’ Galliano sighed. ‘I suppose you’d better put him through.’ A click then informed him the line was live. He switched to Italian. ‘Enrico! Again? Why is it you suddenly need to call me every day now you know I’m dying?’

‘That’s unfair, Uncle.’ The caller sounded flustered. ‘I’m just keeping you in the picture. I thought you’d like to know the latest. I’ve secured that deal I told you about yesterday. We’re now in full control of the newspaper.’

Galliano shrugged to himself. ‘Why do you think I suddenly need to know all these things? It’s only a trade newspaper, Enrico. It’s your company. And it’s in Italy, for heaven’s sake. Look, do you think I’ve nothing else to occupy my mind over here? I don’t need this. Can we please just operate the way we always have? We touch base just once a month, right?’

There was an awkward pause. ‘The truth is I just like to hear your voice, Uncle.’

Galliano practically spluttered in disbelief. He sipped from a glass of water and paused for a moment to calm himself. ‘You expect me to believe that? You’re really calling to check I’m still alive and kicking, aren’t you? And to make sure I don’t forget about you. Talking business is about as deep as we ever get. Isn’t that right, Enrico? Never family.’

‘Look, I really am concerned about you, Uncle. You know that. If there’s anything I can do to help make things easier for you, just ask. I could come to England.’

Galliano sighed. ‘Just stay where you are and do what you do best. You don’t need to be concerned. I can manage perfectly well. I’m not running a family business. I’ve got MDs and CEOs. They manage managers. I don’t manage directly, but I do intend to control operations the way I always have. I shall oversee things until they screw down the lid. I’ve already taken measures to ensure smooth control when I can no longer deal with it. There is nothing for you to worry about. Do you understand that, Enrico? Me dying will just be a small blip for the group—and also for you. I suggest we both carry on the way we always have. I’m happy with the way you run your company, and I really don’t have time to talk about that every day. Or, for that matter, any of the other companies which don’t actually concern you. Is that clear?’

‘If that’s the way you want it, Uncle.’ Enrico sounded deflated.

‘It is the way I want it. Now, I have a meeting in a few moments, so I must go. Goodbye, Enrico. And thank you for your concern.’ Galliano replaced the handset with more force than usual, muttering and shaking his head as he did so. ‘Concern? I don’t think so.’

A few moments later there was a knock on the large double-doors. One opened and a svelte, dark-haired girl walked in. She smiled at him and placed letters from the morning’s post on his desk. ‘That’s the third call this week, sir,’ she observed, glancing pointedly at the telephone.

Nodding, Galliano reverted to his less fluent English. ‘Yes. Suddenly my wayward nephew is so devoted. So communicative. Now, I wonder why?’

‘Concern?’ His secretary gave him a somewhat sceptical smile.

Galliano snorted. ‘Concern? Yes, maybe concern. But concern for himself, no?’ He looked up at her and grimaced. ‘Now you see why I don’t do families, Daisy.’

Bruce was annoyed. Being so dependent on Julia didn’t seem right. It was high time he got a car again. A proper job would change all that.

As she drove him out of Bath on the Warminster Road he fell uncharacteristically silent, thinking about the forthcoming visit to his mother. Always so irascible. How would she be with Julia? The last thing he wanted was for her to scare his girlfriend off.

Bruce loved this approach to Bathampton. He asked her to drive slowly, partly because the lane was narrow and dipped sharply, but mainly so he could see the familiar houses lurking behind their green camouflage.

Julia peeked at them now and again. ‘Nice houses, Bruce. Does your mother really live in one of these?’

‘She certainly does. And her garden backs right onto the canal. It’s a fantastic location.’

‘I can see that. So why have you lived in your little Bath flat all these years?’ Julia gave him a puzzled glance.

Bruce grinned at her. ‘Just be pleased I do. Freedom at any price. You’ll soon see why.’ After a short distance he pointed ahead. ‘There. It’s the house behind that tall laurel hedge. Park outside, just beyond that little Micra. That’s her car.’

Julia parked her black Corsa behind it and switched off the engine. She looked round at him while hooking a strand of long dark hair back behind her ear. ‘I don’t think you appreciate just how lucky you were to live here, Bruce. It’s a lovely area.’

‘Let’s just hope that luck continues with us today—with Mother.’ Bruce raised a meaningful eyebrow.

Julia stretched to grab a bunch of flowers from the rear seat. As she straightened up she looked at him with a serious expression. ‘You do know I’m not exactly looking forward to this, don’t you, Bruce?’

Bruce grimaced. ‘You and me both, honey. You and me both.’

Julia sighed. ‘So I do hope I get a reward.’

Bruce winked. ‘Oh, yes, sweetheart, you’ll get a reward. Don’t you worry.’

Julia couldn’t help but laugh at him, her big brown eyes sparkling irresistibly. Bruce joined in her laughter, gazing—almost mesmerised—at her delicate features. He drew in a discreet breath in order to add the fragrance of her perfume to his delight. Two months now, but it somehow seemed he’d always known her. Now he couldn’t imagine life without her.

A white picket gate was set within an impressive laurel archway. They both peered at the stone house just visible through this opening.

‘Mother’s place,’ said Bruce wryly, nodding towards the house. He wound down his window, inhaled noisily and then grinned round at her. ‘You should take a really deep breath as well, Julia. I’ll warn you, she can be a bit of a dragon at times. But don’t take offence. Dragons can be quite friendly underneath. They just look scary while they’re breathing fire.’

‘Well, thanks for that, Bruce. That really sets my mind at rest.’ She smiled and leaned across to kiss him briefly on the cheek. ‘As long as you look after me.’ She then removed evidence of the kiss by rubbing off a slight lipstick smear. ‘That kiss was for good luck. What is it about your mother that gets you going? You’re just like a naughty little boy going home from boarding school with a bad report. I could tell you’ve been on edge about this since Friday. And I still don’t get why you’ve asked me to come. What does a job interview have to do with us?’

‘Absolutely nothing. Zilch. But she’ll be pleased about the job prospect, you see. It’s always best to catch her when she’s pleased.’

Bruce raised a bushy eyebrow. He was dressed more smartly than usual: a check sports-jacket, blue shirt, black shoes, even a tie—although he withheld some ground by wearing jeans. At least in his upper-half he had achieved a kind of retro-smart look. He figured Mother would half-approve—and that might just help.

‘She’s always concerned I haven’t got what she’d call a proper job. Selling finance packages was bad enough, but working in a pub is the pits so far as she’s concerned. I told her it wasn’t my fault I was made redundant, but she didn’t seem to believe it. Knowing I’ve got an interview with a proper firm should get her in a good mood straight away.’ He paused. ‘That’s if we’re lucky, of course. Might depend on hormones, the phase of the moon, that sort of thing.’ He gave her his usual cheeky grin: the one he knew would normally disarm her and make her laugh. But not this time, apparently.

‘Let’s get this straight, Bruce.’ Julia sternly held his eye. ‘You’re saying she needs something to please her before she meets me? Something to put her in a good mood?’ Wide eyes bored sarcastically into his—although a smile began to play on pale pink lips.

‘No, no, but having a job interview will really cheer her up. Wait a week and the job might already have gone to someone else. Then I’ll just be a barman without prospects again. Bad news. I don’t like meeting her as a barman without prospects. So, at the moment, I’m carrying a halo of hope with me.’ Grinning, he pretended to adjust the space above his unruly blond hair with squeaky noises. ‘I want to make the most of it. So… it’s a very good time to let her know we’re sort of an item.’

‘Sort of? What sort would that be, Bruce?’

Bruce detected an ominous tone and shrugged. ‘Sorry. Okay. Yes, definitely an item. A beautiful item.’ His smile was as encouraging as he could muster. ‘And now we must go—before she notices we’re sitting here and not going in.’

Julia drew in the recommended deep breath. ‘Okay, then. Let’s get this over with.’

Bruce opened his door. ‘Right, then. Over the top. Under the arch. Mother, here we come.’

Bruce jabbed the wobbly white button in the brass-mounted bell, but the house was far too sturdy and self-assured to audibly reveal whether this had any internal effect. Julia glanced round at a garden that was all lawn apart from herbaceous borders to the stone pathway.

‘I have a key, of course,’ explained Bruce, self-conscious waving his key ring, ‘but Mother prefers me to ring.’

‘So the maid can answer the door?’ Julia raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

Bruce laughed. ‘She did actually have a housekeeper a few years back. The funds don’t stretch to that any more, but a gardener still comes in from time to time. She couldn’t possibly manage all this on her own. There’s a huge garden at the back.’

‘And she’s lived here alone ever since you left home?’

‘Yes. Well, she was used to managing on her own. My Dad died when I was two, you see, and she was here then. She moved to England from Germany the year after I was born. My Dad had a job here.’

The door was opened by a pale, skeletal lady in a dark-green dress threaded with gold. She was very upright and tall, like her son. She wore outdated, round wire spectacles which gave her the enquiring appearance of a surprised owl and made her look far older than her 62 years. A brief smile flitted across her face when she saw Bruce.

‘Ah, Bruce. You said you’d come.’ There was a shrillness to her voice and, although her English was now excellent, her speech was still modulated by a German staccato. Each word was sharply enunciated.

Bruce smiled. ‘And here I am, Mother. I have come.’ Because his mother was a little hard of hearing, he spoke slowly and clearly. Then he gestured towards his girlfriend. ‘And this is Julia. She wanted to meet you.’

‘Ah, the young lady from the flower shop.’ Ada Kramer looked across at Julia and gave her a fleeting smile. It grew somewhat warmer when she noticed the flowers Julia was holding out for her. ‘Pleased to meet you, my dear.’ She took the flowers in her left hand and surveyed them for a moment. ‘I always think dahlias are a modest but cheerful flower, don’t you?’ Then she held out her right hand, slightly dropped, as if to be kissed.

Julia shook the limp hand with a look of discomfort. ‘I find dahlias very popular in the shop. There are some wonderful varieties, Mrs. Kramer.’ She smiled and waited for the other to release her hand, but Ada was still surveying the flowers.

‘My, what a mixed bunch. Like us.’ Ada looked from one to the other of them, released Julia’s hand and then fingered a pale delicate bloom with interest. ‘That’s a lovely pink.’

‘Its called Princess Marie José,’ said Julia with a smile. ‘I love them. They’re more delicate than most, don’t you think?’ Then she indicated a different bloom that had a brighter flush to it. ‘And that’s called Fascination.’

‘Which shrieks by comparison.’ Ada eyed Julia with growing interest. ‘How nice to be able to name them all.’ She took a step back. ‘Anyway, do come in. We don’t want to stand around on the doorstep all day, do we?’ She turned to go into the hallway but glanced back at Bruce for a moment and muttered, ‘Pretty young thing.’

Bruce grinned at Julia as he stood aside to let her through, giving her a joyful thumbs-up sign when he closed the door behind them. Julia smiled back, clearly somewhat relieved at having cleared the first hurdle.

Ada took them through to a rear lounge overlooking a large expanse of garden. She indicated a black leather sofa as their potential sitting place. It was softened by age and partnered by two upright armchairs. Aged green drapes framed the bay window and an ornate, gilded marble clock took pride of place on a black marble fireplace. Ada excused herself for a moment to take the flowers through to the kitchen.

Bruce sat next to Julia on the sofa. As usual, the gleam of woodwork and the underlying smell of polish revealed his mother’s continued pride for the house. He exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Julia, noting his mother’s aura was already affecting her; she was unusually subdued. The sound of a tap running in the kitchen and subsequent clinking noises gave evidence of his mother preparing a vase for the flowers.

Ada returned a minute or so later to sit in her usual armchair. She looked directly at Julia. ‘I’ve put your flowers in water, my dear. I’ll prepare the stems later.’

‘I did do that for you, Mrs. Kramer.’

‘Never-the-less, they could use freshening up. A nice clean cut is always good, I think.’ Ada smiled briefly and then transferred her gaze to her son. ‘And to what do I owe the honour of this visit, Bruce? If I seem a bit sleepy it’s because I’ve just had a power-nap. Isn’t that what they call them now, my dear?’ She looked across at Julia who smiled and nodded in confirmation. ‘Of course, everyone’s too busy these days to admit to any time relaxing. I’ll get us a pot of tea in a minute, by the way.’

‘Oh, I could do that for you, Mrs. Kramer, if you just show me the kitchen.’ Julia started to rise.

Ada flapped her down again with an impatient hand. ‘Nonsense, nonsense, no one makes their own tea in my house. I’m perfectly fit. I’m not old, you know, Julie.’

‘Julia, Mother,’ corrected Bruce.

‘What?’ Ada looked at him absently. ‘Yes, yes, Julia. As I said.’ She smiled across at Julia. ‘It’s nice to meet one of Bruce’s young friends.’

‘I only have young friends,’ observed Bruce.

Ada frowned at him. ‘Pedantic. You see?’ She looked at Julia. ‘He is so pedantic. Don’t you find?’

Julia gave a slight shrug. Bruce wondered if this signified agreement or uncertainty.

Ada then concentrated on her son. ‘So what brings you here, Bruce?’

‘You know I’m always coming to see you, Mother.’

Ada nodded. ‘Yes, yes, every month, almost. So you are not here for a reason?’

‘I do have a spot of news that might interest you, Mother.’

Ada looked at Julia for a moment. ‘You see? He has a reason. I knew he would have a reason.’

Bruce plunged in. ‘I have a job interview next Tuesday.’

‘A job interview? Well, well. What might that be, Bruce? Another bar? Moving up to a restaurant, perhaps? Nothing to do with the Church though, I daresay.’

Bruce sighed. ‘You know that’s not for me any longer, Mother. We’ve been through all that.’ He turned to Julia. ‘Mother wants to see me in a dog-collar. Just because I read theology.’

Ada continued her running commentary for Julia’s benefit. ‘Just because he read theology. Just! He got disillusioned at Cambridge, you see. Lost his faith there. Too many beer-swilling students to permit him to continue with something quite so staid.’

‘Now, steady. You know I didn’t lose my faith, Mother. I just moved a shade more towards agnosticism. I’m still quite open-minded. Anyway, that aside, don’t you want to know more about my job interview?’

‘Of course I do, Bruce. Is it a serious job then? I take it you wouldn’t bother coming to tell me if it wasn’t.’

‘Ah! There you have me, actually.’

Mrs Kramer glanced at Julia. ‘He applies for a job without knowing what it is? Is there any hope for him, my dear?’

Julia was beginning to look increasingly uncomfortable. She raised an eyebrow and gave a token shrug.

Ada turned back to her son. ‘Julie’s a quiet girl. Anyway, you’ve applied for a job without knowing what it is? How could that be? Did they advertise for an employee, title to be discussed?’

Bruce gave Julia a despairing look. ‘I put my details on an online database and this company asked to see me. A big company, I gather. I googled it and it has fingers in pies all over the world. Mainly in communications and media. They’re interested in my background and want to discuss possibilities with me.’

Ada sighed. ‘Online? Database? Googled? Why doesn’t anyone talk English any more, Julia? And what is this company called, Bruce?’

‘Galliano, I think. Galliano-Global Limited. Something like that.’

‘Galliano-Global?’ Ada sat bolt upright in her chair. ‘And you see them on Tuesday?’

Bruce grinned. ‘That’s right. Maybe they’ve got a nice little pen-pusher’s job for me. Anything would be more respectable than a pub. Am I right, Mother?’

Ada ignored his sarcasm. ‘I think you should not take this job, Bruce. You should definitely not work for this firm Galliano-Global.’ She held him in an eagle-glare.

Bruce stared at her in amazement before glancing briefly across at Julia, who was wide-eyed. ‘Should not work for this firm? But why, Mother? Are you receiving some message from above? Why shouldn’t I work for this firm?’ As often used to happen when he lived at home, Bruce realised he was picking up his mother’s stilted speech.

‘I have heard of this firm, Bruce, from a friend in the village. Her son worked for this firm. They sacked him for no reason. No reason at all. No redundancy. No holiday pay. No fairness. He said they are not a good firm, this Galliano-Global. Shady dealings. You must not go for the interview, Bruce.’ Ada then managed what was probably meant to be an endearing smile. ‘I only want what’s best for you, Bruce. You know that.’ Her tone was momentarily wheedling. ‘For once, take heed of your mother.’ After glaring at him for a moment, she stood and faced Julia. A strange, artificial smile seemed to slide onto her face. ‘Now, why don’t you let Bruce take you out into the garden while I make some tea, my dear. You can sit by the canal. It would be a shame to waste such a nice sunny day indoors.’

‘Thank you very much, Mrs. Kramer.’

Bruce and Julia stood and then allowed Ada to hustle them quickly through the kitchen and out into the garden. During this, Ada was strangely silent.

Bruce led Julia down the gravel path to a patio on the canal bank. There they entwined themselves into a picnic table and quietly contemplated the scene in silence. A couple with a dog and a little girl walked past on the far side of the canal. He watched as Julia exchanged a cheery wave with the girl and then as she turned to look at him intently, concern evident on her face.

‘What was all that about with your mother? Why doesn’t she want you to go for that job interview?’

Baffled, Bruce shook his head. ‘I just don’t know. I thought she’d be delighted I had a job interview, not try to put me off.’

‘Do you think she’s right about the company?’

Bruce shrugged. ‘She does keep her ear to the ground when it comes to the goings-on in Bath. But she also gets some strange bees in her bonnet.’

‘Are you going to take any notice?’

‘What do you think? Am I old enough to make up my own mind, or what?’

Julia straightened, feigning shock and horror. ‘You mean you might not listen to Mother?’

Bruce grinned. ‘Just play along with me, Julia. I might let her believe I’m listening to her, but it sounds absolute nonsense to me. She’s probably got the name muddled up. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’ll be thinking of some other company with global in its name. She gets confused sometimes.’ He paused for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘My mother’s usually critical of whatever I do.’ He shrugged as Julia gave him a questioning look. ‘No, honestly. It’s just her way. When I was a kid she even put me down in front of friends. In the end I gave up bringing them here. It made me a bit of a loner, I guess.’

‘Poor Bruce.’ Julia put her arm around him and gave him a playful squeeze.

‘She’s more involved with the village now through the church. She had high hopes I would go into the ministry when I read theology at Cambridge. And she can’t get over the fact I’ve changed my mind. She probably announced it to the vicar. That’s why jobs are such an issue with her.’ He grinned. ‘So just bear with it. I just humour her. It generally works in the long run.’

After that they quietly enjoyed the sun and watched the canal life until Ada appeared a few minutes later with their tea set on a silver tray. Bruce noted the visit warranted the best china—plus a plate of assorted biscuits: a good result.

After putting the tray down and sitting across the far side of the picnic table, Ada set out cups and began to pour tea. ‘So, you will not go for this interview, Bruce?’

‘I suppose not, in view of what you say.’

Ada beamed. ‘That is good. There will be other jobs. And it is not like you are out of work. It is a nice bar, I’m sure. And that is all you wanted to tell me?’ She nodded towards Julia as she poured the third cup of tea. ‘When you phoned and mentioned you were bringing your young lady, I imagined there was more to tell than this.’

‘More, Mother?’ Bruce grinned from one to the other of them. ‘Well, actually, there is a bit more. Julia is moving into the flat.’

‘You mean you are engaged, Bruce?’

Bruce and Julia exchanged amused glances.

‘No, no. Not engaged. You’ve heard people sometimes share accommodation these days without actually being engaged, Mother?’

‘I have heard it,’ Ada replied icily, ‘but I don’t particularly like it.’ She deposited her son’s cup and saucer in front of him with a thud; the tide of her displeasure sent a tsunami of tea into the saucer. She placed a second cup more gently before Julia, carefully avoiding-eye contact, after which she sipped her own tea for a while before continuing. ‘I am old fashioned German lady. I think man and woman should be married before they share a home. I am sorry.’

Bruce emitted a snort of disbelief. ‘Like you and Dad, I suppose? Come on, Mother. You can’t pretend you were married.’

Ada looked aghast. ‘Dirty washing!’ she hissed at him. ‘Of course your father was going to marry me, Bruce. He was. There were difficult circumstances and then he was killed. You know that.’ She looked flustered.

‘But you both had two years for it to happen before that. Including the year you both lived here.’

Ada shook her head in apparent despair and then looked at Julia. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. Most embarrassing. Bruce gets upset when he talks about his father. I think he feels cheated he died on him.’ Then she glared at her son. ‘He was a very busy businessman, Bruce. That is not fair. He worked all over the world. We did not get around to it. It was very hard to plan a wedding with all his travelling.’

‘And neither are Julia and I planning anything,’ pointed out Bruce. ‘For us, there isn’t any pressing need.’ He watched the barb go home as his mother visibly flinched—then regretted it.

‘You can be so cruel, Bruce. You can be a cruel boy.’

‘I’m sorry, but your disapproval upset me. Anyway, Julia is moving her stuff in next week, whether you approve or not. I’m old enough to make my own decisions. About life. And about jobs. I’ll decide whether I go for a job interview with Galliano-Global. But I will think about it. I may decide to go, or I may not.’

Ada glared icily at him. ‘Really?’ Her eyes widened. ‘You will have a busy time then, making all these important decisions.’

2

A Most Unusual Job Interview

Bruce had killed fifteen minutes in Bath Abbey and ten minutes admiring the river from Grand Parade before he crossed Pulteney Bridge. It was a pleasant walk on a fine sunny day. The tourists were out in force.

The Bath office of Galliano-Global was located mid-way along a Georgian terrace in Great Pulteney Street. The brass plate beside the door was very coy about the business. All it revealed was: Registered Office of Galliano-Global Ltd..

Bruce had timed his arrival to be five minutes ahead of his appointment at ten-thirty; prompt, he thought, but not over-eager. He noted with interest the basement