The Cameraman by Matthew Kneale

Author:Matthew Kneale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books

The next morning, soon after dawn, Julius was woken by the sound of Frank getting up and bustling about the room, fussing with his things. Julius glanced at his watch. Six-thirty? You’re very early. Rather you than me. Allowing himself another half-hour’s sleep, he went down to the breakfast room where he found only his mother. Look at you – cake for breakfast? Well, why not? When he asked where the others were, she had no idea. As if it matters. Actually it’s better, much better, as it means I can slip out without Claude making a fuss. But hardly had Julius assembled a bread roll with cheese and ham when he saw Claude, Maude and Frank marching into the room. Claude looked furious, Maude bemused and Frank miserable, as if he wished the earth might swallow him up. What have you done, Frank? And Claude has his, ‘I wasn’t a major in the army for nothing,’ face.

‘There’s no time for breakfast, I’m afraid,’ he murmured dramatically. ‘We have to leave straight away. And by straight away, I mean now, right this very moment.’

No.

‘For goodness’ sake, Claude,’ said Lilian. ‘I’ve just sat down to breakfast.’

Not entirely true. From the crumbs and plates I’d say that’s your third piece of cake.

‘And where do we have to go?’

‘To the garage, of course,’ Claude answered.

That makes no sense. ‘But the car won’t be ready yet,’ said Julius.

‘It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that we leave the hotel right away. Immediately.’

Julius took a large bite from his roll.

‘I’m sure nothing will happen,’ said Maude languidly. ‘And I’d rather like some breakfast.’

‘Sorry, Maude, but we just can’t take that chance.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ moaned Frank.

What on earth did you do? Piss on the Austrian flag? ‘I have to go out just for a moment,’ said Julius. ‘There’s another picture I want to take. It won’t take a second and I’m all packed up and ready to go.’ Oh no, the staring eyes.

‘Absolutely out of the question,’ Claude hissed.

Damn, damn. Julius struggled against a sense of defeat. Why did I have to stop and talk to Bob? It’s like it was testing me and I failed. He tried to hold himself together. This is no time to weaken. He brushed his hand over his jacket, feeling the faint presence of Joachim’s document in his pocket. I can post it from Venice tomorrow morning, so there’ll only be one day lost. Doubts crept back. Assuming we can get there tonight, that is. And assuming that that one day doesn’t make all the difference. He tried to ponder the uncertainties before him – how long the post would take, how long the Manchester Guardian would need to have the document translated into English, how long the world would need to take notice. How many days till Louisa’s wedding? Nine. Possibilities seemed to slither about him. Damn, damn. Don’t lose heart. There must be a way. The Predictor said so. But I was so close. If I’d reached the library three minutes earlier, I bet I could have found a paper and scribbled down the address.

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