The Twyford Code Read online

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  Voice 2:Oh, er. Everything. London kids, inner cities. How it’s changed.

  Voice 1:()

  Voice 2:I’m talking to Paul Clacken (. . .) I’m saying that into the recorder, Paul mate. So I know who it is when I find out how to play these files back (. . .) Paul went to the same school. We (. .) we were matey. We played football together=

  Voice 1:That were middle school. Do you mean high school?

  Voice 2:If=

  Voice 1:I don’t remember it.

  Voice 2:None of it?

  Voice 1:Nothing=

  Voice 2:You remember the are E class. Missiles? Donna, Nathan and Shell, going to the seaside=

  Voice 1:Not me. I didn’t go. Do us a favour, mate. Switch that off.

  Audio File 15

  Date: 19.04.19 17:40

  Audio quality: Moderate

  I found him easily on FacebookTM. Paul. He lives across the common in one of the old blocks on acre road. He’s barely gone a mile since we were kids. That’s rich coming from me. I haven’t gone far myself. He’s a mobile car mechanic just like his old man. Kept his head down over the years. Still knows some a the old faces. Surely can’t be married. Scruffy and dirty. Stained fingers from the fags. Pocky red nose from the demon drink.

  I’m sat here in the boozer trying to look like he didn’t storm out under a cloud. Very useful this. I can pretend to talk on the phone when I’m really speaking into the recorder. He was friendly enough until he realised what I wanted to talk about. Why is that?

  Oh, come on, Smithy, don’t read too much into it. He was a troubled kid. It was in the family. It don’t mean he’s hiding anything, does it? People round here are cagey. It’s second nature. I know Kos I am one of em. But if there were nothing out of the ordinary about that day, why was he so reluctant to talk about it? To me. Who was there myself.

  Because the thing is, I know for sure Paul came with us. I can see him now. He jumped into that van like we all did, excited for a day out of school. We got in the back and missiles hauled herself up into the driver’s seat. She turned the key over and over. Engine coughed and died each time. We fell silent, our spirits sinking fast, when Paul leaned between the seats, squinted at the dashboard. He’d helped his dad in the garage since a nipper. After a sharp intake a breath, he told her to wait for a light to go out, then try again. She did what he said, the engine chugged to life and we were off. Yeah, Paul showed her how to get the minibus going. I’ve remembered that all these years Kos it seemed to me no one at the school knew she was taking it out, or they’d a shown her how to start it.

  I’ll have to go. Finished my drink and there are some faces round here I’d frankly rather not ().

  Audio File 16

  Date: 20.04.19 10:12

  Audio quality: Good

  Michelle Madden. Must be her married name because that’s her. Shell. The stunning girl from are E. Found her on a list of people who confirmed they were going to a school reunion ten years ago. That profile picture. She’s in a cocktail dress, glass of bubbly. A line-up of women. Identical hair and clothes. But her eyes stand out a mile to me. If I’m gun a do this. I have to do it. Why do I feel ()? There. Request sent.

  Audio File 17

  Date: 20.04.19 22:36

  Audio quality: Good

  SHE’S ACCEPTED. Spent the whole day checking every few minutes. No message, but yes, I can see her page now. Seems she likes a glamorous cruise or three. And staying in a big hotel with a pool, immaculate gardens. Villa KappaTM on some island in Greece. Lots of friends. Dogs. Small, white curly dogs. Lives north of the river. High Barnet. Well off my manor. Two grown-up sons. Husband has had some plastic surgery, so he could be an old face or a grass on the run. But something hasn’t changed. I’m looking her right in the eye. Is it there? I swear I can see something.

  Got a get some sleep now. Picking up a new car from Maxine’s neighbour tomorrow.

  Audio File 18

  Date: 21.04.19 16:02

  Audio quality: Good

  I don’t f[EXPLICIT]ing believe it. That posh place on FacebookTM is HER HOUSE. I thought it was a f[EXPLICIT]ing hotel. F[EXPLICIT]k me. Huge gates. The sort of place we’d rob blind back in the day. Got a park this rusty c[EXPLICIT]t out of sight. She can’t see me arrive in this.

  Audio File 19

  Date: 21.04.19 16:11

  Audio quality: Good

  Round the corner from Shell’s house. Big f[EXPLICIT]k-off gates at the front and zero security round the back. Perfect daylight job. I’d have been over that wall in a flash. Still could now I bet.

  I’ll be honest. Had to pluck up all me courage to type a proper message to Shell. She was out a my league then and I’m just as tongue-tied now. Turns out I needn’t have worried. Soon as I mention meeting up she replies with YEAH, drop in whenever you’re passing, have a catch-up, be good to see you. So I type back GREAT, see you in an hour (. . .) She takes a while to reply then. Probably busy putting the HooverTM round and given the size of the place, that ain’t the work of a moment. But I got a do it. Got a find out. For Maxine. So here I am (. . .) Feel like a kid outside the head master’s office. Right.

  Audio File 20

  Date: 21.04.19 16:27

  Audio quality: Good

  Voice 1:It’s lap sang sue shong. Posh tea.

  Voice 2:Mmmm (. . .) lovely. I’ll put it down, though.

  Voice 1:All that’s irrelevant now, Steven. I don’t think about it.

  Voice 2:What (.) .hhhhh. Aftertaste. What is? Irrelevant.

  Voice 1:School. Childhood. Over and done with. Nothing about it defines me in any way (. . .) Do you remember playing in the park at NIGHT?

  Voice 2:Yeah, yeah=

  Voice 1:Unimaginable now. You told me your mum wanted you to live with her so badly she kept a clean knife, fork and plate specially for you in her kitchen. Only you couldn’t leave your dad because he needed you to get him home from the pub. Funny now=

  Voice 2:Can’t believe you live in a place like this, Shell. It’s a palace.

  Voice 1:Thank you. What have you been doing, Steven?

  Voice 2:Why? What have you heard?

  Voice 1:Nothing. You look like you’ve worked hard these last forty years.

  Voice 2:Do I? Thanks. You. You’re. You too. I’ve been in business. Import export. Driving. Logistics. Nightclubs. Most recently, though, I’ve been in security.

  Voice 1:What’s your book about?

  Voice 2:My? Oh yeah. YEAH. It’s about inner-city kids.

  Voice 1:Like we were. What about them?

  Voice 2:How poor kids get out the rut. Break the cycle of disadvantage.

  Voice 1:Education and hard work. It’s not a mystery.

  Voice 2:I want to show how they can help themselves. Make a life against the odds. Defy the system. The expectations of society. Do alright for themselves (. . . . .)

  Voice 1:What’s it really about? (. . .)

  Voice 2:Missiles and our trip to bore moth that day. Sorry I can’t drink any more of that.

  Voice 1:Leave it. Why that day?

  Voice 2:You were there, Shell. You remember it.

  Voice 1:I remember it clearly, Steven.

  Voice 2:Can you tell me? Everything you know. Everything you remember.

  Voice 1:I (. . .) hhhhhh remember you started it. You brought a book in. A very old book by Edith Twyford. Goodness knows where you got it from. Missiles read it to us. It’s one I read to my boys when they were little. Missiles loved that book. She’d talk about Edith Twyford in every class. It was like we were studying HER books, not reading and writing to catch up with our peers. She organised a trip to Bournemouth because that’s where Twyford lived (. .) Steven? Are you alright?

  Voice 2:Do you remember what happened in the end?

  Voice 1:.hhhhh We came home. Later than planned. The minibus kept over-heating or something. We drove back in the dark. Otherwise, it was a very pleasant day out of school. I don’t think any of us escaped the city often. I have nothing bu
t fond memories. (. . . . .)

  Voice 2:Are you SURE, Shell?

  Voice 1:I focus on positive things, Steven. That’s how to move on. I haven’t a clue why you want to write a book about that day. But, the fact YOU, a child who struggled with literacy all those years ago, are writing a book [background noise] proves education is the key. Oh, ZANDER. This is Steven, from my old high school. Steven. My husband Zander.

  Voice 3:Hello. Good to meet you. Michelle, you’ve given him that godawful. Can I get you some proper tea? Pass me his cup, darling.

  Voice 2:Oh yes please, governor.

  Voice 3:I’ll be in the kitchen [background noise] dogs going mad (. . . . .)

  Voice 1:Steven, things were difficult at home for you. I understand. It’s no surprise you can’t recall details from that time. The mind forgets. It’s a safety mechanism. Survival. Write your book about something else.

  Voice 2:hhhhhhh Yes. You’re right, Shell. I will. Just reading too much into it. Easily done.

  Voice 1:See. Your. It has the. Are you RECORDING this?

  Voice 2:Only. Just so as I=

  Voice 1:DELETE IT. NOW. And it’s Michelle. I’m MICHELLE now [background noise]

  Audio File 21

  Date: 21.04.19 17:19

  Audio quality: Good

  That went well, as people say now when things go badly. Hard enough driving again after so long, let alone in this state. Have to sit in the car for a bit. Don’t know if that came out. Or if she got to it before I snatched the phone back. I can see the (. . .) But when I tap it you must upgrade eye oh S to play this file. Just like the others.

  I tapped the recording button as she got the tea. That was a moment, let me tell you. Tasted like the bottom of an ashtray. Worse than anything they dish up in the scrubs. In fact, serve that up inside and fellas would be banging bin lids on the roof before it had chance to go cold.

  She looks just like she did in are E. Cool. Haughty. But she tries to speak like one a them. Doesn’t fool me.

  Education and hard work she reckons is the way out of poverty. But not her way. She married well, as they say in costume dramas on a Sunday night. In all fairness, her old man was solid gold. Turns out he’s not on the run at all – he’s a plastic surgeon. She was a nurse. That’s how they met. One a their sons is a doctor and the other in finance. You should a seen their faces when I told them my son works with numbers too. He teaches maths at Brunel University. They didn’t expect THAT. Not with me as his (. . .) not with me as (. . .)

  Why did she think I had a difficult time at home? No more than she did. Or other kids back then, in that school. I had a roof over my head. I had Colin. Cheeky mare.

  But missiles. She was very quick to dismiss that. My eyes don’t easily see words like yours do, Maxine. Type, print, handwriting, none of it. But they see things you don’t. It’s partly a professional skill. Spotted her Bulgari ring, Chopard necklace and Tiffany bracelet with barely a glance. Could live magnificent for a month on the contents of a jewellery box like that. Back in the day, I mean.

  It’s partly something else I can’t quite explain. Like Shell’s eyes as she assured me I were wrong. Like the lines around her mouth. Like her hands and feet and how her body changed shape as she spoke. The tone of her voice and air of relief when I pretended to believe her lie. The way she quickly changed the subject to some light, airy chat about their holiday villa that won’t sell. Too isolated, too basic, needs too much work. Yeah, a big f[EXPLICIT]king problem.

  I can hardly accuse her of lying, when I told her I’m writing a book. But at least I know a bit more about (). So missiles talked a lot about Edith Twyford Kos of the book I found. Well, I never listened in class, didn’t concentrate, couldn’t have cared less, so no wonder I don’t remember it. Edith Twyford. The name rings a bell.

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  Audio Files Batch 3

  [Start Transcript]

  Audio File 22

  Date: 25.04.19 13:45

  Audio quality: Good

  So far, no luck tracing Nathan or Donna. Messaged a few from school so let’s see. But in the meantime, been forging ahead with my investigation. Got chatting to the new librarian. She apologised for the library having no Edith Twyford books at all and to make up for it, helped me register on eBay. We searched on there and I spotted the cover right away. That boy in his red jumper. It’s called Six on Goldtop Hill, book one of the Super Six series. Dead cheap. It arrived here by post yesterday. Propped it up on the table, so I can see that kid with his toy plane wherever I am in the room. Keep looking at him. As for reading it, well, have to work my way up to that. I’ll start Monday when the booth goes quiet.

  I’ve googled an expert on Edith Twyford. A stroke of luck. She’s based on Gower Street up town. Spent all afternoon crafting an email to her. Proper sweated over it. She pings back straight away agreeing to be interviewed for this book I’m not writing. Turns out, if you’re writing a book, people are more willing to talk than if you just want peace a mind for yourself. My appointment is at two. I’ve to find the English department and ask for her at reception. Her name’s Rosemary Wintle. I’ve got her picture up on the phone. Big glasses, grey Bob, mid 60s. That’s exactly how I imagined her when I read the name. Funny that.

  Audio File 23

  Date: 25.04.19 14:09

  Audio quality: Good

  Voice 1:I’m at University College London, or you see Elle, recording Rosemary Wintle for my book. She’s an expert on Edith Twyford.

  Voice 2:No. I’m an expert on twentieth-century children’s literature. Edith Twyford is an interesting figure from that period. I work as a consultant for her publisher and I’m occasionally asked to speak about her in the media, but wouldn’t call myself an expert on her exclusively.

  Voice 1:Oh. That’s OK. Well, you’ll probably still be useful.

  Voice 2:.hh (. . .) Good.

  Voice 1:I’m looking at this book in particular.

  Voice 2:What about it?

  Voice 1:Is there anything that makes it an important one in the Edith Twyford (. . .)?

  Voice 2:The Edith Twyford what?

  Voice 1:World?

  Voice 2:Six on Goldtop Hill is one of Twyford’s Super Six books, probably her most famous series, written between 1939 and 1963. There are six young characters who enjoy adventures together and solve rural mysteries. I don’t believe this is more significant than any other in the series.

  Voice 1:So why’s it banned?

  Voice 2:I’m not aware it’s banned.

  Voice 1:Years ago my teacher at school told me it was banned.

  Voice 2:hhhh I see. Well, some schools, teachers and parents, over the years have exercised an anti-Twyford policy. They actively do not promote her work or read her books in class. She is rarely stocked in schools or municipal libraries.

  Voice 1:Why not?

  Voice 2:Well, you’ve read her canon.

  Voice 1:Her CANON? (. . .) YES. I plan to read that one. When I get the chance.

  Voice 2:You’re writing about Edith Twyford but haven’t read her books?

  Voice 1:I’ve lost my glasses.

  Voice 2:Well, when you find them, you’ll see that Twyford wrote in a particular way. A very simple way. She’s an unchallenging read on every level. No subtext. No depth. No hidden meanings. No food for thought. No room for interpretation. Even where she depicts reality, it’s so idealised it borders on fantasy. You’ll know Twyford was most productive during the Second World War?

  Voice 1:Yes. That’s one thing I’m well aware of=

  Voice 2:She spoke of wanting to help children escape the stress and trauma around them. It explains much about her style and approach. Her stories are in the moment, there and gone. Timeless, in their way, yet dated to the contemporary reader. Since the 1960s, children’s literature has grown in its scope and sophistication. Authors now feel a responsibility for how their readers’ outlook and development are shaped by the stories they tell. Twyford’s creations bear no compa
rison to Harry Potter, Tom Gates or Dora Marquez, to name but three.

  Voice 1:Were they writing at the same time?

  Voice 2:(. . .) They’re fictional characters.

  Voice 1:They are. Yes. Of course.

  Voice 2:Having said that, accusations of sexism, racism, misogyny and xenophobia have stalked Twyford ever since she began her career in the 1930s. Let me see (.) This is a reprint from the 1970s. This will have been edited to remove a good deal of the original bombastic language. Overseas she remains very popular. Published in 42 languages. Of course, with every translation the story is, almost by default, updated in line with contemporary trends.

  Voice 1:Can you tell me, miss. Please. Is it possible to become so obsessed with this book, you .hhhhh lose yourself ?

  Voice 2:(. . .) I would find that unlikely. Although if one is prone to obsession (.) It’s hard to say.

  Voice 1:Oh.

  Voice 2:Have I answered all your questions?

  Voice 1:Yes, miss.

  Voice 2:Good. Well, turn left out of the door and immediate right for the stairs.

  Audio File 24

  Date: 25.04.19 14:54

  Audio quality: Good

  Core. I’m sweating cobs. Forgot how bloody intimidating teachers can be. What is it about them that switches my ears off the minute they start talking? I’m sitting on a bench in this pretty little square pretending to speak on the phone. She was all prim and just so. Spoke into the recorder as if she had delivered that speech hundreds of times before. Well, she was nice enough to agree to meet me, but the only good thing to come out of my visit is that while waiting for her in reception, I found out how to make one of my son’s photographs into the main picture on this phone. I chose one he’d left in the gallery. He’s at a picnic table one summer, probably a few years ago. He looks so happy. It’s not often I’ve thought this, but there’s something about his expression (. . .) He looks like me in that picture.