Aubrey arrived back at the factory to find that George and Sophie had procured a treasure trove of fresh vegetables, meat, fish and fruit. They’d even found milk and cream fresh that day.
After stowing his bicycle, Aubrey stood at the door from the yard and stared at the single long table that took up nearly half the length of the ground floor. It was covered with white linen, but Aubrey was sure that since the benches appeared to have vanished, the banquet table was actually several bookbinders’ workplaces pushed together.
If the table settings were meagre, George and Sophie had made up for it with the bunches of fresh flowers in glass jars that were evenly spaced along the centre of the table, alternating with an assortment of candles. The dishes being handed around were cheered as they were brought out steaming – ragout, baked fish, a roast leg of pork, huge bowls of vegetables steamed, roasted and fried.
George saw Aubrey standing open-mouthed. He approached, wiping his hands on the brightly spotty apron he wore. ‘You have a booking, sir?’
‘For one,’ Aubrey said faintly. ‘In the name of Fitzwilliam.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been instructed to usher you to a table for two in a corner away from the band, in the name of Hepworth.’
‘Really?’
‘Sorry, old man, just joking. It’s find your own seat here tonight.’ George rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, how the little things can make a difference. Not a jolly lot, these Enlightened Ones, but feed them up and suddenly the jokes start pouring out.’
‘Sometimes I think we’re fighting for the little things as well as the big things.’
‘Never a truer word was spoken. Would you like some dinner?’
‘Yes please.’ Aubrey stopped. ‘I like your apron. The lace edge is a lovely touch.’
‘It’s quite fashionable. All the best people are wearing them in Lutetia, apparently.’
Aubrey actually found a seat next to Caroline and, for an hour or so, had fun eating, talking, passing platters of food right and left, and learning useful things like the best way to confuse a polar bear.
George and Sophie made sure the food kept rolling out of the kitchen for what was obviously a continuous dinner rather than something with discrete courses. The Enlightened Ones came and went as their shift at the warehouse ended, or started. The weariness of the returnees dissipated with the hospitality, but the faces of those who were leaving were pitiful, and many lingered for a last bite or riposte, or a whispered conversation with a friend.
As midnight approached, the dinner began to crawl to a conclusion. Caroline excused herself to the hairy Enlightened One on her left, and leaned over to Aubrey. ‘I’m going to see if the airwaves have anything for us.’
‘Do you think the Directorate might be transmitting tonight?’
‘It’s coming up to optimum reception time. It’s best to make sure.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘You get some sleep. I hardly have enough room in that booth for me and my equipment as it is.’
‘We could try,’ Aubrey said. His self-consciousness had obviously been lulled into a soporific state by the dinner, for the words were out of his mouth before he knew it. ‘Sorry,’ he said, but he was delighted when Caroline tapped him on the shoulder.
‘Not tonight. It’s too important.’
She left him staring into the air.