Blog Tour and Book Excerpt for "Poole of Honour"

BOOK EXCERPT

London, February 1965. Daniel Poole, a young criminal barrister, and his wife Mary are running late for the Royal Film Performance at his family’s flagship cinema in Leicester Square.

‘See those searchlights?’ says the cabbie. ‘Royal premiere in Leicester Square.’

Shaftesbury Avenue has surrendered to a sluggish tide of headlights, the cab nudging forward only to be trapped again. The tiny white digits inside the metal meter box keep turning with their almost cheerful insistence, as though determined to empty Daniel’s pockets one careful tick at a time.

‘We could walk from here?’ whispers Mary. ‘Might be quicker?’

‘Not in your condition,’ says Daniel, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

He leans forward, gripping the side rail, his foot tapping impatiently. He could do without being late – and without another rebuke from his brother, Harry.

They crawl another few hundred yards before he checks his watch, then lets out a sigh. Down a small street to his left, he notices a red shopfront board with gilt Chinese characters.

‘Are you sure you’re okay to walk?’

She nods, and he calls to the driver to pull over. Daniel helps Mary to the pavement, then waits by the front passenger window for the price of the fare.

‘That’ll be twelve shillings and sixpence, sir,’ says the cabbie.

Daniel removes the last remaining ten-bob note from his wallet, then rummages around in his trouser pocket for some change. The Bar, he’d discovered, was not as lucrative as people imagined.

‘Thank you,’ he says and turns towards Chinatown, taking Mary’s hand. ‘Come on, I know a shortcut through here.’

They make their way down the small lane to Gerrard Street. Daniel notices the signage for the Krays’ new nightclub. He’d read about the twins moving in on the owner, and the charge of demanding money with menaces.

‘This way,’ he says, and heads in the opposite direction towards Newport Place, before emerging at the north-west corner of Leicester Square. People in woolly hats and winter coats hang around, hoping to glimpse a celebrity or even royalty. Others are oblivious to the excitement, in a futile rush to get from one end of the square to another. Daniel leads Mary through the crowd, making his excuses as he squeezes past and towards the bright glow of the cinema. Ahead, the shiny metal tops of police helmets demarcate where the onlookers stop and the illuminated cinema entrance begins. Written along the canopy, the name of the film Lord Jim is displayed with a reminder that this is a Royal Film Performance, raising money for a Benevolent Fund. Above the sign, there’s an enormous yellow poster featuring the star of the show, Peter O’Toole, against a Southeast Asian setting.

‘Did you finish reading the book?’ asks Mary, raising her voice so she can be heard.

‘Didn’t have time. Sorry. Any good?’

‘Classic story about shame and the quest for redemption.’

‘Ha! If only half my clients saw life that way.’

They reach the metal barrier, and Daniel ducks underneath.

‘Whoa there, sir!’ cries a police bobby, rushing towards him and grabbing his arm.

‘We’re here for the premiere.’

‘Yeah! You and the rest of London.’

Mary quickly searches in her clutch bag and finds the white card with black lettering, handing it over the barrier to the bobby. He reads it:

Mr & Mrs Daniel Poole

are cordially invited to the

Royal Film Performance

of

Lord Jim

Arrive at 6pm

‘Poole, eh?’ The bobby releases his grip and gestures towards the top of the cinema tower and the bold neon sign displaying the words POOLE PICTURES horizontally and vertically. ‘You’re one of them, are you?’

Daniel nods, feeling the bobby’s scrutiny sweep over him, as though checking he belonged where his name had brought him.

‘It seems you are running a bit late, sir. The royal motorcade is about to arrive.’

‘Yes, which is why you need to let us through,’ says Daniel, carefully controlling the tone of his voice.

The bobby narrows his eyes as he looks at Daniel and then at Mary. He pulls the barrier at one end and creates a small gap for them to pass. Daniel spots his brother Harry standing by the doors, square-shouldered and unmistakably in charge, searching for something over the heads of the crowd.

‘Harry!’ shouts Daniel, rushing over to him.

‘What time do you call this?’

‘I’m sorry – the traffic was terrible.’

‘I told you to leave in good time. You should know how these things play out!’

Daniel resists saying anything. He knows how trials play out, not royal premieres in Leicester Square.

Mary appears beside them. ‘It’s my fault and I’m sorry,’ she says, putting her hand on her belly. ‘I’m a little slow these days.’

‘Mary,’ says Harry, and leans over to kiss her. ‘How lovely to see you.’

Just at that moment, there’s a roar from the crowd as a Rolls Royce turns into the square.