Pas de Deux

The extended family took their leave at that point and told me they would see me later. Kent explained. "You will meet everyone later when we go out for dinner; you have an appointment to meet a real American steak." I looked forward to meeting this phenomenon.

Kent had made a reservation at Franks Steak House for a large table. It was needed. My other cousins, second cousins and cousins once removed were all waiting for me. Again I was besieged with hands to shake and cheeks to be kissed. In between I answered questions about relations that they had heard of but never known. I had formulated a family tree going back to eighteen fifty-one and I had a dozen copies which I circulated, this engendered even more questions and in between answering questions I tried to look at the menu. Kent took it away from me. "You are getting steak. You don't come to this place and eat anything but steak." He ordered the eighteen ounce New York Sirloin for me.

I stopped him. "No way am I going to eat eighteen ounces of steak. Is there a smaller one?"

"Ok." He said wearily. "Give him a fourteen ounce." The waitress needed to know how I would like it done I answered.

"Medium please." She stopped writing and looked at me.

"Are you English?"

I agreed. "Yes. I am English."

"I knew straight away, I just love your accent, it's so cute...and you said please. My pa always said that the English were polite." I thought of saying that I didn't think I had an accent but desisted. Anyway it was good to know that she thought my accent was cute.

The steak arrived and I blanched, it was daunting. The platter was twice as large as a normal dinner plate to accommodate the steak and the mashed potato that came with it. The waitress also placed to the side a large bowl of tossed salad. I waited for everyone else to be served and when they started to eat I did likewise. I picked up my knife and fork and started to eat in the English manner. There was a sudden silence. Everyone was watching me, including the waitress.

"Will you look at that?" One of my female cousins, I think it was Jo-Anne, remarked breaking the silence. "Knife and fork together. Wow, that is so, so English!"

Having tasted it and being transported to Heaven by the flavour, I tucked in and ate all the steak, the potato and salad defeated me. It took me some time as apart from the meal being generous I was constantly being asked questions and asking them as well. I finished and sat back with a contented sigh. "Right, Simon." Kent enquired. "What did you think of that?"

"Best steak I have ever tasted. It's a pity I am a vegetarian." There was a shocked silence followed swiftly by laughter when I grinned and told them it was a joke. The English sense of humour is something the Americans don't always understand. Actually our European partners don't understand our humour either. But they are strange anyway.

Kent and Amelie lived in Saugus which has a history as old as America, being one of the first places settled. I remarked to Kent when he showed me around that many of the historic buildings were very similar to those in the county of Kent in England.

"You're kidding." He was astonished.

"Yes. Your forebears would be quite at home in them."

Kent had taken some comp time from work and assured me that he would take me round to see everything, and that on Saturday we were going to the Football to watch the Boston College Eagles. I was astounded that the whole family would be coming. I asked Kent if that was sensible as in the UK it wouldn't be safe to take wives and children to a football match. "Sure it's ok. It's a great family day. Why shouldn't it be safe?" I had to explain that at football matches and to some extent Rugby matches there was quite an rowdy element and even violence at times. He was shocked. "You Brits get me. You tell us that you are civilised and now you're saying that it's like a war at your football stadiums."

"Not a war, Kent. But it can get ugly at times."

"Jeez! What's the matter with you guys?"

The Football match was an eye-opener. Not because of the fans, Kent had prepared me for those and he was right, it was a day for all the family. Neither was it because of the superb Alumni Stadium or the very athletic and lovely cheerleaders exhorting the fans to support their team, it was the actual game. Like many around the world whose only knowledge came from short clips on news programs, my perceptions of American football were of armoured giants slugging it out on a pitch. Now watching the game and listening to Kent explain what was going on I suffered my own Damascene conversion to the view that this was as much a cerebral contest with strategy and tactics allied to strength producing a winning combination. Yes, the linemen and the linebackers had to be strong but just as important as their strength there was guile, particularly in the person of the quarterback. This was a game of physical fitness, tactics, deception, bluff and counter-bluff. Once I understood that I became as enthusiastic as Kent. I loved the game!

Amelie was very keen to discover my love life and I showed her the photo of Antonia and I together that I carried in my wallet. It had been taken by one of the photo touts on the Embankment who had recognised Antonia and insisted on taking the picture with the Thames as backdrop. He may have tried to sell the photo to one of the tabloids, but I didn't hear of it so he may have been unlucky. Amelie perused it carefully. "She's real pretty, and you say you are getting married?"

"Yes. Quite soon."

"She looks to have the build and posture of a dancer." Amelie observed.

"You're right. She's a ballerina. Actually she's over here at the moment, touring with her company." Amelie looked up sharply when I said that.

"You're kidding us. Would that be the Ballet Company D'Anglais? They were here in Boston a short while ago."

"Yes. I think that was one of their bookings."

"And could Antonia also be known as Toni." I nodded. "Toni Berwick?" She pronounced the name Burr-wick.

I nodded again. "That's her professional name."

"We saw her;" Amelie exclaimed, "they did three performances here in Boston." She immediately picked up the phone and pressed a speed dial number. "Maxine, it's Amelie." I had met Maxine, she was Kent's sister. "You will just not believe this. You remember the principle dancer in Swan Lake? Yes that's the one, Toni Burr-wick. Well your cousin Simon, who it turns out is a very dark horse, knows Toni very well, probably extremely well and what is more they are getting married soon. Now what do you say about that?" Amelie was quiet but I could hear the babble of excitement coming from the other end of the phone. Amelie put her hand over the mouthpiece and asked me. "When?"

"Not decided yet but I suspect it will be sometime later this year."

Amelie nodded and turned back to the phone. "Sometime this year he reckons." She listened for a moment then said. "I agree. Talk to you later, Maxine." She put the phone down. "Simon, if you don't send us an invitation to your wedding we will be very upset with you. Kent! You have been saying for years we should go to England to find your relatives and then you keep putting it off to next year. Well now we have a damn good reason to go, and you won't have to go looking for your relatives, they'll all be there at Simon's wedding."

Kent held up his hands in surrender. "I'm not going to argue, Sugar. I know a 'honey do' when I hear one. Anyway I am looking forward to meeting this girl of Simon's. She's a doll!" The look that Amelie gave him could have withered a Cactus.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I flew out of Logan and American Airways delivered me in Denver four and a half hours later. In no time I was checking in to the conference centre Hotel. Henry had asked to be informed when I arrived and the receptionist passed me his message. "Sir Henry asks if you would visit with him in his suite when you'all have got settled."

My room was fully equipped with everything including a fantastic view of the Rocky Mountains which stopped me in my tracks. I must have stood looking at that fabulous scenery for five or more minutes. Henry's suite was overwhelming, but then it would be as Henry never travelled anywhere unless it was first class. I could not begrudge him this opulence though. My account was being picked up by the Foundation. Henry paid for himself. He didn't think it right to charge that which he could easily cover from his own funds. "Simon." He welcomed me. "Good flight? And how were your relatives in Boston?"

"Thank you, Henry. The flight was good and my cousins in Boston treated me to a slice of American life, which I thoroughly enjoyed."

"Good, good." He murmured as he poured coffee. We sat down. "Simon apart from anything else the reason I wanted you here was to meet Professor Hartington from the Burgoyne Institute. His team are looking in a different direction to you, but have noticed some reactive potential that could be of interest to you. It may be another blind alley or possibly..." He left it hanging in the air. This was the way of research. The Burgoyne like us was a non-profit operation, funded by grants from medical charities and donations from the public. We would share information with others if it would help their research and vice versa. Anything we discovered was freely published for Drug Companies to pick up and develop. Theirs was the major investment as synthesising an agent into a drug, then trialling and getting the relevant national bodies to accept the drug as safe was a long and very expensive process

"I would be happy to talk with them, Henry. Is there any area where you would not want me to discuss?"

"No." He shook his head. "Feel free to cover anything that may come up with them. I would caution you that there are some representatives of Drug Companies here. Much as we would like their money, what we discover is freely available to all. We will not accept patronage which involves exclusivity."

"Understood, Henry."

The first two days of the meeting was intensive. This wasn't a conference nor seminar really. No one was giving speeches or tutorials. It was just an opportunity for researchers to get together and discuss ideas and projects. For most of our time we tended to live in a sheltered atmosphere, these gatherings helped us realise that the problems that beset us, beset others as well. I met Professor Hartington and his lead researcher, John Garrow. We got on very well and the information they were pleased to reveal would indeed be very useful. I was happy as I could return their help with some facts and results I had discovered that would be of assistance to them. I promised to email the full data when I was back in London.

Professor Hartington, "call me Jake," he insisted, had brought along a friend. He was introduced as Richard Easton. Another Easton! We took some time trying to find out if we were related, but eventually having discovered no relatives in common decided that it was just a co-incidence. I asked him what area of research he was interested in. "Golf." He replied. "Same as Jake. I am no medical man at all. Jake coming was an excellent opportunity to introduce him to some of the more difficult courses here in Denver. So I am really an interloper. I'm an attorney by trade." I found out later he was a top man in one of the most prestigious practices in Denver. So much for an attorney by trade.

Jake suggested that he and Richard would slide away for the afternoon and hit a few balls. "Well Richard will slice them if he's on form."

"That's slander, Jake. Don't forget I'm an attorney."

"Yeah, I remember, and a lousy golfer." Before they left Jake insisted that we had dinner together that evening. "Let's say six-thirty in the Grill."

John Garrow and I had a good conversation and then split up to talk to other people, agreeing to meet later over coffee. I met a number of people I knew or had spoken with at some time or other and picked up some interesting data that could be of use to the Foundation.

Allie's American Grille was very busy when Henry and I arrived. Jake had reserved a table and stood up and waved. We made our way to them weaving between the other tables and sat down thankfully as it had been a tiring day. I was pleased to see that John Garrow had joined us. Henry as usual started the conversation. "So, how did your round go?" He asked. "Will you be looking for a collection to cover the cost of your lost balls?" That brought a laugh from all of us and Richard grinned.

"Well, Jake may. He tried to play his round mostly under water."

"I have never played a course with so many water hazards." Jake replied ruefully. "But at least I didn't take five to get out of a sand-trap." That set the tone for the first part of the evening. I was asked about my relations in Boston and told them of my visit to watch the Boston Eagles. This brought about a discussion on the relative merits of American Football and rugby. Two Englishmen and three Americans, we weren't going to win. In that jesting discussion my rugby playing was mentioned.

"You actually play that girly game?" Richard teased me.

"I did play at Cambridge."

"You were at Cambridge?" Jake seemed impressed

"Yes."

"So why are you slumming with Henry here." He quipped.

"I take umbrage at that slur." Laughed Henry. "How can it be slumming when it is I who have introduced him to you?"

"Good point." Said Richard. "Attorneys like to pose questions like that. It's a question that rattles a witness when you can't break them down, because there is no correct answer."

For some time we had been hearing a loud voice from a table near us. I thought I knew the voice but couldn't place it, however Richard could. "For Chrissake! It's that asshole, Cummings." That was all I needed to place the voice, Edgerton Cummings."

"You know him?" I enquired of Richard.

"Yeah. Not as a friend mind. He should be in jail, but the judge accepted a plea. I wonder what scam he's up to now." I turned but with the restaurant being so crowded I couldn't see very well. I had my back to them but Jake and Richard were facing the other table and had a better view.

"That little lady doesn't seem too keen to be there." Observed Jake.

"I'm not surprised." Richard remarked. "Cummings has a very dubious reputation with women." I kept turning around to see, but other patrons were always blocking my view. Eventually Jake mentioned that she was getting up.

"Probably going to the Rest room."

I turned then and saw who it was. It remarkable how the mind plays tricks. The lady looked just like Antonia, but as she was in San Francisco it couldn't be. Then I froze. It was Antonia! "That's Antonia." I got up abruptly, tipping my chair backwards in the process. Richard got up as well and put his hand on my arm.

"Simon you look fired up about something. Calm down. What's got you riled up?" I quickly explained why I was surprised and then mentioned what had happened in London.

"I see." He said when he understood why I was upset. "Now Simon, I don't know how you would handle this in England, but you're in the States now and as an Officer of the Court I am not going to allow you to get into trouble, the last thing I want to do is post bail for you if you cause a ruckus. I suggest that you go and see to your lady friend and I will wander over and see if I can find out what Cummings is up to. Ok?"

"I'll come with you." I wanted to confront Cummings as I was certain that he was up to no good.

"No you will not, Simon. Your priority is looking after that lady of yours. You do not know that anything underhand is going on. If there is we will nip it in the bud."

Reluctantly I did as he suggested and Henry came with me. Possibly to make sure I behaved myself. As we walked into the lobby area he suddenly caught my arm. "There's Ballinger. I'll go and have a word with him and you find Miss Berwick." I looked around and saw Mr. Ballinger, a very harassed man if ever there was. He was trying to organise some of his dancers presumably to get into the Grill. I was at first surprised that Henry knew Mr. Ballinger, but soon realised that Henry would have talked to Ballinger before the Gala.

I saw Antonia come out of the rest room, Instead of making her way back to the Grill she headed towards the lifts. "Antonia." I called. "Antonia." I quickened my walk. She looked round to see who was calling and saw me. She went from a standstill to full run in less than half a second. I braced myself as from three feet away she launched herself into my arms. I held her close as she shook. Then we both spoke and asked the same question. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm where I am supposed to be." I answered first. "In Denver."

"No. This is Dallas, surely."

"Who told you that?"

"That's supposed to be the next venue on our tour. We performed yesterday evening and went straight to the airport. We got here in the early hours of this morning; I have slept most of today. I just assumed that this was Dallas.

"Well my gorgeous ballerina this is Denver and however you got here I am so happy to see you."

"When you called my name it could only be you and my heart jumped. I was so frightened. That man Edgerton Cummings is organising the tour and the whole thing is a disaster. Then he insisted I join him for dinner and he was objectionable. I was going to my room to get away from him, and then I heard you. My knight coming to the rescue again." She stopped for a moment. "So where's my kiss?" She demanded. I bent my head and our lips joined. I couldn't care less about the many people in the lobby who saw us; Antonia's lips were a powerful argument. We broke as the sound of clapping reminded us of where we were. Henry and Mr. Ballinger led the clapping. Red-faced I apologised.

"Oh don't apologise, dear boy." Henry grinned. "It's good to let these colonials know that we English are not cold and standoffish all the time."

"I would be careful of referring to the Americans as colonials, Sir Henry." Mr. Ballinger interjected.

"I spoke in jest, Ballinger. Our cousins do understand our deprecating humour." The smile vanished from Henry's face. "Simon. I think Mr. Ballinger needs to have a chat with Miss Berwick. It would seem that all is not well with this tour."

CHAPTER EIGHT

Authors note: The word hooker refers to a position in Rugby Union, i.e. the player in the scrum who should hook the ball with his heel to gain possession. It does not refer to a lady who is very generous with her charms for financial gain.

Antonia went with Mr. Ballinger who had called a meeting of the company. She told me later that the venue Cummings had booked in Denver, which was not part of the original tour plan, was totally inadequate. If it had been the Ellie Caukins Opera House it would have been a perfect venue, it wasn't. The theatre he booked was completely unsuitable. The stage did not have a proper floor for ballet, nor was it big enough. "Does that matter so much?" I queried.

"Yes. For a start we couldn't get the whole corps de ballet on the stage at the same time, and second in one passage I have to do a series of pirouettes across the stage from back right to front left. I do fifteen pirouettes in time with the music. On that stage I would have managed ten and then on eleven would have fallen off into the orchestra pit. We could have re-arranged the choreography but we can't edit Tchaikovsky's score." Whatever problems the theatre posed it was not as much a problem as the company's costumes, which had been air-freighted to Dallas! There were many other problems, the hotel situation I knew about, but it would also appear that insufficient time for rehearsal was not given at venues. They needed at least two days rehearsal time to get the choreography right for the stage and back stage also for their musical director to rehearse the orchestra. At some places Cummings had only booked time for the performances. All in all it was a disaster. Ballinger had enough and had told Cummings that he was cancelling the rest of the tour. Cummings threatened to sue unless Ballinger completed the tour.