A Scandal of Sorts - Ch 1

‘To prove once and for all what you gave voice to; meet me behind the theatre of La Broadwai at nine. There shall your fate be decided, and the deeds of vengeance be done.’

I folded the letter and kept it in the inside pocket of my coat. In front of me lay a big decision. Behind, I saw starvation, born from the hunger for revenge. This man could help me. But how did he know about me, my address, about the worm wriggling around in my mind? I need a Plan-B, something for backup.

Looking around me, I spotted my dead father’s walking stick. This can ensure safety. Tears came into my eyes as I looked upon the inscription. On the brass stick, in letters of gold, was engraved Joseph Calverton, Pale Leaf Towers, Mayfair. His last words, ‘I am innocent‘, were echoing around in my mind. The strong impulse of anger and despair made me move out of the house into the hustle-bustle of Whitechapel Road.

The theatre’s location was alien to me. I summoned a cab and asked the driver about it, who, to my utter good fortune, had worked there as a guard a couple of years ago. So far so good. As we drove, I noticed a few red drops upon the driver’s dashboard. I shooed the dangerous thought out of my mind. And yet it was particularly singular.

The driver stopped the cab in front of La Broadwai. I paid him and looked up at the theatre. It was a fair-sized building, and in front of it using colourful lights was written Clara Theatre Fest. A brisk walk around the building took me to an alley at its back, where I stood, waiting for the stranger. A glance at my wrist-watch told me it was quarter to nine. What shall I do for fifteen minutes? Twenty five yards away I spotted a discarded bench propped up against the wall. Trotting up to it, I sat down.

This quarter of an hour provided me with an advantage of studying my surroundings. The passage was a bit narrow, so that I felt a bit suffocated. In front of me were kept wooden boxes and crates on which I supported my legs. On both sides I saw the same scenery. The size of the alley gave me a reason to believe why the sender had called me here – he wanted to talk something private, possibly the thing which I was expecting all along.

The sound of footsteps alerted me and I sat up straight. At the edge of the alleyway I could see a man clad in a curious costume – a ballerina frock and a hairband with two popping balls on the top - walking towards me. His eyeballs were moving in all the directions, looking for the person who was scheduled to arrive at this moment. Trudging along the high walls of the theatre, I began to think how to address this person, given his attire, but before I could do so, he increased his pace and clasped my right hand, saying, ‘Glad to meet you, Mr Calverton. It’s time to look into the matter.’