Play to the End by Robert Goddard Page B

more to it than that. A lot more. So, I decided to put my excess of spare time to some use. I compiled a detailed history of Colbonite. I wrote the whole story. From start... to finish."

    The lane had turned another bend by now and brought us out onto a busy road leading down into the city. A brightly lit tanker was visible in the far distance, cruising across a wedge of darkness that was the sea.
    We started down the hill towards it.

    "This is Ditchling Road," said Derek. "It's a straight line of sight from here down to St. Peter's Church and out to the Palace Pier. It always was a lovely view to walk home with."

    "I'm sure it was, but '

    "I want the history to be published, Mr. Flood. That's the thing. I can't bear to think I've gone to all that trouble for nothing. I asked Mr. Colborn for help. He'd know the right people to approach. Or he could finance publication himself. He can well afford to. But he refused even to consider the idea. Of course, not everything in it is
    ... to his credit .. . but it is the truth. Isn't that what matters?"

    "It should be, Derek."

    "Not the whole truth, of course. I can't claim that. There are things I know things Mr. Colborn knows that aren't in it. He'd realize that if he read it."

    "But he hasn't read it?"

    "I don't think so. I've sent him a copy. More than one, actually. I thought the first might have gone astray. He doesn't respond to my messages. That's why I've been trying other ways to get his attention."

    I'd found Roger Colborn out in a lie. He knows Derek Oswin. I suspect he knows him only too well. It's not much of a lie, of course. Why trouble your fiancee with such a tale? A half-cracked ex-employee with a no doubt unreadable company history he wants you to usher into the literary world is someone any of us could be forgiven for airbrushing out of our acquaintance. As for closing down Colbonite and flogging off a patent, some would construe that as good business practice.
    Hard-headed, yes, but not especially hardhearted.

    "It's become clear to me that I'm wasting my efforts where Mr. Colborn is concerned," said Derek.

    "You may well be."

    "I have higher hopes of you, Mr. Flood."

    "Really?"

    "Your agent, Moira Jennings, represents writers as well as actors."

    "How do you know who my agent is?"

    "It wasn't difficult to find out. It's not difficult to find out lots of things, if you have the time."

    "You want me to get your history of Colbonite published?"

    "It's called The Plastic Men. What do you think of the title?"

    "Not bad. But '

    "Anyway, I don't expect you to work miracles, Mr. Flood. I just want the book ... seriously considered. If it's not deemed marketable, I shall accept that."

    "You will?" Derek's sudden ascent into realism had taken me aback.

    "I'll have to."

    "Weller yes, you '

    "Would you be willing to ask Miss Jennings to take a look at it?"

    "I might." I pulled up. Derek carried on for a few steps, then turned to look at me. "On one condition."

    "I promise to stop bothering Mrs. Flood."

    "You promised before."

    "Yes. I'm sorry. I won't break my word again."

    "How can I be sure?"

    "Because I broke my promise and obliged you to miss tonight's performance for a very specific reason. It was to help you."

    "Help meT

    "Certainly."

    "How in God's name do you reckon you've done that?"

    "Can't you guess?"

    "No, Derek. I can't."

    "I'd better explain, then."

    "Yes. You had."

    "It's a little .. . delicate."

    "I'm sure I can cope."

    "What I mean is ... why don't we go back to my house and discuss it? I could ... make some cocoa."

    Some offers are too good to refuse. Cocoa with Derek Oswin isn't one of them. But soon enough there we were, in his neat, tidy sitting room, two mugs of steaming un sugared cocoa and a plate of digestive biscuits between us. He'd obviously stocked up since my earlier visit.
    I eyed him expectantly across the coffee-table.

    "This had better be good, Derek."

    "Don't worry, Mr. Flood. It's Cadbury's cocoa.