Chapter 6

“Do you mind if I have the radio on sir”? Jack asked, “I’d like to know what the traffic reports are saying. There are reports that there’s fog coming in from the South.”

“No, not at all”, replied Robert.

“It won’t disturb you sir?” said Jack, and with that he pressed a button and the glass panel closed him off from the front of the car.

Looking out of the windows he could see low dark clouds on the skyline. Definitely not flying weather he thought to himself. Already he could see mist forming in the fields.

Within ten minutes they ran into the start of a fog bank, their speed dropping off as they joined other traffic.

The partition slid noiselessly open “It’s just been announced that they’re closing Gatwick, Heathrow, and Stansted will be next.’ Jack reported. “The met bloke on the radio says something about warm south air is in contact with a cold front from the north centred over London. It looks like we could be in for a long drive sir.”

“Please leave the partition open Jack, I’d like to hear what is happening.” Robert asked.

Soon reports started flooding over the radio of traffic jams from Basingstoke up to Luton and the fog appeared to get getting thicker.

The police were appealing to people that didn’t need to travel to stay indoors. Heathrow and Stansted were closed and thousands who had hoped to fly were left to find accommodation for the night. By six pm they had covered less than thirty miles. By the time they joined the M11 it was grid locked. Reports said that London was completely snarled up with traffic from people leaving their place of work trying to get home.

“I’m afraid you are going to be late reaching your hotel sir.” Jack said.

“That can’t be helped” replied Robert.

The pain began as an ache in his calf, but soon spread up through the leg. He tried flexing his toes but it didn’t help. He knew then it was going to be a bad attack.

A thin film of perspiration covered his forehead. When he could stand the pain no longer, he reached into his pocket for the pill bottle.

“Does Sir Royston have anything to drink in here?” Inquired Robert. “In the centre cubby sir” said Jack.

Robert had noticed the large leather consul that divided the back seat. Pressing it down it opened to reveal two cut glass crystal decanters with matching tumblers. Two silver disks announced that one contained Brandy and the other Whiskey.

Robert poured some of the Brandy into a tumbler. Taking a swig with a capsule in his mouth he washed it down.

“If you want to smoke sir there are Cuban cigars in the humidor at the back of the cubby.” Jack informed him.

“Thanks Jack, but I’m a cigarette man myself” not that Robert smoked much at all.

Jack reached over to the glove compartment, “will these do?” passing over a new packet of Dunhill, “I always keep a spare packet handy.” “You must let me pay for them.” “That’s quite alright sir, no need at all.” replied Jack.

Robert cracked open his window, lit a cigarette with the cigar lighter, then coughed at his first lung full of smoke. He didn’t know whether it was the capsule, the brandy or the cigarette or a combination of all three but the pain dulled to an acceptable level.

By now night had fallen, dim orange glows of light indicated where the motorway lights were suspended along the road. The journey had deteriorated to stop go movements of a few yards. Robert tried to sleep. He felt tired, but the constant stop starts motion of the car and the pain prevented him.

When they had reached the out skirts of London the traffic had become completely grid locked. Car hooters were sounding, people were losing tempers and the police were fighting a losing battle to try and keep the traffic moving. They spent over an hour in one traffic jam before moving. By the time they finally drove on to the fore court of the hotel it was eleven forty-five.

Robert shrugged on his great coat to lessen the effect of cold damp air; every bone in his body seemed to be protesting. Jack retrieved his case from the boot and accompanied him in to the foyer, placing the case down by the reception desk Jack turned to Robert. “Will you be OK now sir?”

“Fine now thanks Jack, but what about you. Do you have to get back tonight?”

“No sir I’ll be all right. I have a mate who lives across the river, who will put me up, he has a lock up so the Bentley will be all right.” Shaking hands, he said “Good luck for tomorrow sir, make us all proud!” And then he was gone.

A young man in his early twenties appeared behind the desk, “Can I help you at all sir?”

“I’m Flight Lieutenant Barlow, I believe you are holding a reservation for me.” Robert replied.

The young man consulted a computer screen, his fore head creasing into a frown. After several seconds he said “If you will follow me, I’ll take you through to the bar whilst we sort out your room.” Coming from behind the desk he picked up Robert’s case, Robert followed him leaning heavily on his walking stick.

He led the way into a large bar area that was full of comfortable chairs and tables, but was quite empty of customers. The only person present was a bar man who seemed to be occupied cleaning up.

The young man leaned over the bar and seemed to have an animated conversation with the bar man. Breaking away he returned to Robert who was still standing leaning heavily on his stick. “James will look after you sir, order what you will, compliments of the hotel.” With that he dashed away. Robert limped over to the bar where his case had been placed. The barman James was waiting to take his order.