Wings of the Morning by Julian Beale Read Free Book Online Page B

his humour must be pretty easily
aroused but then spotted that the real cause of Sol’s pleasure was that this silly accident might lead to a new friendship and a widening of Martin’s world. He chided himself with the
arrogance of this thought but it stayed with him as the evening fell and he was drawn by the vitality of Solomon Kirchoff into revealing more of himself, his current circumstances, his hopes and
aspirations.
    By now, it was sometime after six o’clock and the girls in the office had said their goodbyes and left for the evening. The big man rose from his chair and beamed down at them. He was not
very tall, but was built like a barrel with great arms, legs and head all in similar proportion and topped off with a beard which fell to his chest. Had that been white rather than streaked black,
he would have answered perfectly to the popular vision of Father Christmas.
    ‘David’, he announced ponderously as if commencing a speech, ‘David, I have so much enjoyed meeting you and I would like for us to speak again soon. I do believe that we could
be of help to each other, but first, you must let me think a little further.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Kirch....’ David started his reply but the old boy cut him off.
    ‘David, you must call me Sol just like the rest of the world does — even including Martin unless he is really upset with me’, this said with a guffaw as Martin rolled his eyes
towards the ceiling, ‘and secondly, you owe me no thanks as already we value your friendship’. He glanced at his son whose look said to David that he agreed with the sentiment but
wished Sol would ease up on the drama language. David understood and his smile said so.
    They remained frozen in this tableau as Sol’s smile embraced the younger men. Then the moment was broken by the sound of swish over carpet as the front door from the street was opened. Two
men had entered and now stood together without a word, their eyes fixed on Sol. The larger, who was black and very large indeed, looked to be West Indian. His companion was white, slim, smartly
dressed with highly polished black brogues and holding a small umbrella. It was he who took the lead. David took them to be customers or colleagues in the business, arrived for a pre-planned
meeting, and he sensed this was his moment to leave. He turned to say his farewell to Sol, but was shocked to find that he had become another person. The great shambling bulk had been instantly
diminished and reduced in every way. The shoulders hunched, the beard wobbled on his chest, his hands washed at each other but could not disguise their tremble. When he spoke, his voice emerged
cracked and reedy, so different from the booming tones of earlier.
    ‘Mr Riley and Mervyn’ he squeaked, ‘You’re a little early today gentlemen. No doubt it’s Christmas arrangements, but I can accommodate you. Of course I can. Please
follow me.’
    And with that he led the way up the spiral staircase which was located at the extreme end of the building, leading up to a reasonably sized meeting room which completely occupied the mezzanine
area. Martin had showed it briefly to David and explained that they seldom used it except for client visits, so David assumed that these two represented some important business. It was certainly a
performance to get up there, with Sol and the huge Mervyn struggling to negotiate the stairs.
    David continued perplexed by the dramatic change in Sol, the more so because Martin was now definitely moving him towards the front door and himself acting in an anxious manner. As they stood
together in the open doorway, Martin spoke.
    ‘Thanks for coming, David. It’s been good to see you and we must make another plan. I can tell that Sol is definitely doing some scheming.’ There was a forced joviality as he
gesticulated with some wild movements before going on, ‘what about New Year’s Eve if you’re around that day? We’ll be back at work, so come up for some