Chapter 16: An Adventure

Day 1 — London to Weymouth

Here beginneth the diary of my summer in Europe, late July and August 1970. It was just Harry, Ewan and myself on the trip, as neither Peter nor Tommy had been allowed to go. I was severely pissed off about that at first, but family holidays had already been booked which I couldn’t legitimately argue over. I would miss having Pete as a confidence-boosting wingman with any girls we might meet, but alas, it was not to be. Hey ho.

The start of our expedition was a leisurely one, leaving home late morning to drive north-east into central London. That was completely the wrong direction, but we had to get to Waterloo Station to board the train south-west to Weymouth. The last time I’d been on a train was with mum and dad, years ago. The one from Waterloo was much longer, but not exactly glamorous. Still, it was interesting to gaze out the window as we sped through London, watching the dense housing become a patchwork of fields.

It was a three-hour journey, with Weymouth the very last station on the line. Metres further and you’d literally be in the sea. Harry and I counted down the stations and distracted ourselves with talk of the adventure to come. When we got there, that adventure was suddenly less exciting, as we discovered that the downside of backpacking is having to carry a bloody heavy backpack. Our bed-and-breakfast for the night was only a five-minute walk away, but I was glad it wasn’t further.

The three of us were carrying our own clothes and sleeping bag, plus Harry and I had divided up the small two-man tent we would sometimes sleep in. I currently had the canvas, whereas he had the ground sheet, pegs and poles. Poor old Ewan had his own tent, as was carrying the lot.

After checking in and depositing our things, we wandered down to the beach and sat enjoying the late afternoon sun. Then it was fish ‘n’ chips on the promenade, and an early night.

Day 2 — Weymouth to Saint Helier

With my knowledge of the future and very comfortable lifestyle, there are days when I feel almost superhuman and the luckiest guy on Earth. Just a few days. Mostly I just trundle through life like any other kid trying to survive. And then there are dark days when I just want to see my mum again to get a consoling hug. Unfortunately, the second day of our trip fell into the latter category.

We had an early start and were seated for breakfast promptly at 07:30. A full-English breakfast got us fuelled up, and then we were off to the harbour.

The ship that would carry us from England to Jersey in the Channel Islands was named Caesaria. I think she was built by the Romans as an implement of torture. When I’d planned this journey, my rationale was that I survived the ferry from Dover to Calais, so this should be fine, right? Wrong! Not only was the journey four times as long, but the sea was rough. Yes, it was a lovely day, with the July sun shining down, but we were still pitching and rolling. My full-English breakfast didn’t taste quite as nice the second time! And Harry vomited seconds later, probably from the smell. There was no let-up, and there was no getting off. It was six hours of hell.

When we finally, finally docked at Saint Helier we were feeling very sorry for ourselves. We had shaky-leg syndrome as we got used to solid ground again, and I was very thankful that we had a nearby hotel reserved for that night.

Days 3 & 4 — Jersey

The new dawn brought Harry and me new leases of life, so we headed out after breakfast to explore. The town of Saint Helier is nice enough, but it’s just a town. We wanted to see the island. So we hired bikes for the day and headed off under pedal power to discover beaches, cliff-top paths and relics of World War II. The following day we all woke with aching legs, so that day was rather less energetic.

That evening, our last on the island, Harry dropped a bombshell.

“Finn, I’ve summut I need t’tell ya, cos if I don’t it’s gonna bug me the rest’at trip. You’s not gonna like it, but it’s for’t best, kay?”

I nodded in wary anticipation.

“I’m not goin’ back t’school in September. My work experience place offered me an apprenticeship to be a mechanic ‘nd I’m gonna take it.”

I wanted to argue, or cry, or maybe both, but instead I forced a smile on my face. “That’s brilliant! Well done. You must have really impressed them.”

Harry started rabbiting on about the placement he’d done while I was off with the RAF, and I realised why he’d been tight-lipped in the intervening weeks.

English law at the time required compulsory education up until the end of fourth form, age 15, which we’d just finished. Harry, like me, didn’t see himself as being very bright. Unfortunately, in his case that impression had been reinforced by joining an ex-grammar school where he’d struggled to keep up. I felt guilty about that. He’d only gone to the school because of me, not because it was the one best suited to him. At a different school, he might have stuck it out to get some qualifications.

On a selfish level, I was gutted that my best friend wouldn’t be at school with me anymore. But he was clearly over-the-moon about getting a job working with cars all day, every day, and I knew he’d excel at it.

Day 5 — Saint Helier to Saint-Malo

Another ferry. Better than before. No more chucking up, but I’ll never be a sailor.

Days 6-13 — Saint-Malo to Bordeaux

For the next week, we worked our way down the western coast of France. The night at a hotel in Saint-Malo would be our last for a while, as there was no shortage of campsites on our route. After a morning walking the historic sea-facing city walls, and a lunch of grilled fish that had been in the sea a few hours earlier, we headed for the railway station.

The pattern would be that we arrive at each new destination mid-afternoon and find our campsite either by bus, taxi, or getting a lift from the advanced security team that was already there. Obviously, the campsites weren’t in the city centres, but none of them was a million miles away either. We would spend two nights in each of our stops, giving us a day and a half to explore the area before getting on the next train. Thus we explored the towns of Rennes, Nantes and La Rochelle before arriving in Bordeaux. The first two of those were as you might expect of medium size cities, with no shortage of museums, cathedrals and the like. La Rochelle was very different, being coastal. It had oodles of history, not least being the base for Hitler’s U-boats, plus there was a 190ft tall lighthouse nearby which we climbed to see the awesome view out over the Atlantic.

We arrived in Bordeaux on day 12, and by that time we were ready for two nights in a comfortable bed. We were sat in a cafe having a light lunch when I spotted a face that had been popping up a lot.

“Ewan, don’t turn around, okay? Harry, keep eating. There’s a guy behind you over by the window that’s been following us. I’ve seen him a few times this week in different places. Is he one of your guys?”

“Brown hair, mole on his right cheek, wearing a blue polo shirt?”, Ewan asked.

I nodded and relaxed a little.

“No, he’s not one of our guys. He’s Russian.”

Harry choked and coughed on his drink.

I was horrified. “Shit. You don’t mean...” I was about to say the three little letters that personified Soviet scariness, but Ewan quickly told me not to as our stalker might be able to read lips. “Why would, erm, someone like him be interested in us?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” He looked amused. “Finn, you own a multi-national company, encompassing the UK’s largest aerospace contractor. You have an awful lot of people that are curious about you.”

Crap.

Harry asked, “So shouldn’t we, ya know, tell the authorities?”

“We have”, Ewan replied, surprising both of us. “We first noticed some people tailing you almost a year ago. We got the police to trace their cars, and when a Soviet connection came up, Dan flagged it up to MI5. The Russians have been watching you, and we’ve been watching them watch you. We picked up this particular tail at Waterloo, and he was on the train with us to Weymouth. We lost him on the ferry, and then he turned up again in Nantes. He doesn’t pose any real risk. From what we know, he’s a desk spook, not an assassin. But this is why you’ve got an armed British police officer in your backup team, just in case. Don’t let it spoil your holiday.”

Easy for him to say!

“So this is about BAC and their military stuff?”

“That’s part of it. When you reach eighteen and take charge of the company, you’ll be a powerful and influential man. If the Russians or the Americans or the French were able to turn you somehow, you’d be a very valuable asset for them. I mean, you recently helped topple a government.”

I thought at first he was referring to Libya, which he definitely shouldn’t have known about. Thankfully Harry saved me from putting my foot in it with a well timed, “Ya what?”

Ewan explained, “Our last government, Harold Wilson’s lot, they were being a pain in the arse about Finn’s new theme park. So him and Dan arranged for a whole load of newspaper ads attacking them. Result, the theme park got approved, and the government got kicked out at the election last month.”

I knew they would have lost in any case, but I couldn’t say that. Harry hadn’t listened much beyond the first sentence, turning to ask me excitedly, “You’re building a theme park?!”

I smirked and nodded, but then refocussed on Ewan. “Surely they must know that I don’t own, won’t own the company?”

“As good as. It’s a technical difference that doesn’t matter to them. Look, your grandfather and Dan have positioned you to kind of take over the world. They’ve done some very clever deals to manoeuvre you and the company into power. Quietly seizing control of BAC and then doing the deal with Douglas ... overnight the company became one to be reckoned with. Then the deal with ICI, where Dan got a seat on the board that you’ll probably take once you’re eighteen. Plus there’s stuff that isn’t public like the contract with Six to facilitate certain foreign operations.”

“Facilitate? Actually no, don’t tell me. Who are Douglas and ICI?”

“An American airliner firm, and Imperial Chemical Industries. You’d best ask Dan if you want all the details.”