7Later that day Mr. Binnacle settled the blanket over the Admiral's lap and pushed the wheelchair towards home. The Banks family had left just before them. That was strange thought Mr. Binnacle. He had just realized that he had seen the Banks family entering the park with their nanny but he hadn't seen her when they left.
The Admiral was exhausted but exhilarated. "So what do you say to a little wager?" he asked Mr. Binnacle. "A crown says they'll be married a year from now."
"Oh no," said Mr. Binnacle, "Much sooner than that. I'd say Christmas time. Bert's supposed to be back by then."
"Money'll be tight," said the Admiral. "Jack will want to save a bit. I still say next spring."
"Maybe Jack will sell one of his songs," said Mr. Binnacle. "If that happens they won't have to worry so much about money." He watched from across the street as Jack jauntily tied his balloon to the bike and rode away. A shadow passed over them and Mr. Binnacle looked up to see what had caused it. Whatever it was it was gone now. He paused a moment to look up at the sky. It was a beautiful shade of blue and the clouds were almost perfectly white. London was more famous for its fogs than its clear days. Today was breathtaking. He looked down at the Admiral. "I suppose everything is possible," the old seafarer said, "Even the impossible. But it does seem like that would take a little help."
"Well, you never know," said Mr. Binnacle. He hummed a few bars of the song Jack had been working on.
So hold on tight to those you love
And maybe soon from up above
You'll be blessed so keep on looking high
While you're underneath the lovely London sky
He took one last look at the beautiful sky above and then bent down to help the Admiral out of his chair and into the house.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Lady Hyacinth McCall
Brought all her treasures to a reef
Where she only wore a smile
Plus two feathers and a leaf
Charlie Cobb, comedian, raconteur, song and dance man, and star of the West End, could hear his daughter's voice bellowing all the way down the hall. Charlie Jr. was shy as a little mouse, but Kimmy was a chip off the old block. She had rigged the curtains of her four poster bed to look like a stage and all her dolls and animals were arranged in a semi circle watching as she sang and danced energetically on the mattress.
"Ere now," he said looking in the door of her room. "Where'd you hear that song?"
"At school," said Kimmy bouncing up and down on the bed. "Georgie Banks taught it to me. He got in trouble 'cause teacher said it was vulgar, but I liked it."
Charlie refrained from saying what he thought about Kimmy's teacher. It wasn't respectful and she needed to mind her elders. "But where'd Georgie Banks learn it?" he asked.
"His friend Jack wrote it," said Kimmy executing a graceful jump to the floor followed by a pirouette when she landed. "Are you taking me to the fair daddy? Mama says she'll stay home with Charlie."
"In a bit," said her dad. "I need to make a phone call first."
Jack, he thought, couldn't be. Last he knew Bert's kid had been in the States. Jack had been smart as a whip and talented too. He'd told Bert a hundred times if Jack ever wrote something to send it his way and he'd give it a look. Bert should know he needn't be shy around old friends. Course now that he was famous Charlie had people who ran interference for him. They kept him from being bothered by folks who said they were old friends and wanted favors. That could be good and it could be bad.
He picked up the phone and called his assistant. Yes, said that efficient young man, he knew what Mr. Cobb was looking for, an envelope with ten songs. Yes, he remembered the person who brought it, a tall gentleman, called himself Bert. No, he had looked through a few and they weren't very good so he hadn't brought it to Mr. Cobb's attention. No, he still had it, did Mr. Cobb want him to run it over. Mr. Cobb did and in about 20 minutes his assistant appeared at the front door with the envelope.
The first few songs were pretty bad. Charlie wasn't surprised his assistant didn't think they were worth showing him. But one further down had a really good melody. That didn't surprise Charlie either. Jack had always been a musician first. Pairing him up with a good lyricist might produce some decent songs. Most songwriters worked as a team splitting music and words. It was more unusual to find someone who did both. Still, as Charlie worked his way through the pile the songs got better. Three of them had potential and might be all right with a little work, and two of them were brilliant. No sign of the one Kimmy was singing but based on the last two songs he bet Jack had written that one too. Now he just had to find him.
Charlie pondered the situation in the back seat of the cab as he and Kimmy headed towards the fair. Bert had delivered the songs almost a year ago and the paper with Jack's address was missing. He didn't even know if Jack was in England, but if he was he'd probably be in London. Knowing Jack he'd be working three or four jobs to make ends meet and none of them would be behind a desk. He'd start with some of the old gang and see if any of them had seen Jack lately.
"Look daddy," said Kimmy tugging on his arm. "That man has a balloon on his bike."
Charlie looked out the car window at the lamplighter heading home from his route.
"Well what do you know," he said to himself. He ordered the driver to stop the car and opened the door.
