Robert Rankin - The Brightonomicon

'She played me false, John,' I said. 'But no, wait. What of Mr Rune? Is Mr Rune all right?' 'Mister Rune? And who would this Mister Rune be?'

'Hugo Rune,' I said, 'the Perfect Master, the Cosmic Dick, the Hokus Bloke himself. He reinvented the ocarina, you know.'

'Never heard of the fellow,' said John. 'How is the water?' 'It tastes like-' 'It is,' said John. 'It's vodka.' 'Well, thank you very much.'

'You had me worried there.' John patted my shoulder once again. 'You're my bestest friend. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. You need me to protect you. One night away and you're-' 'One nightV 1 said. 'Pour me another of these, if you will.'

'I will not,' said John. 'You are still clearly in your cups. Did you fall off the pier in your drunkenness? Was that it?'

'Er, yes,' said I. 'That was it. But that was a year ago, John, when it happened the first time. When I went down to Brighton with Enid Earles. You will not believe the adventures I have had since then. But they are all true, believe me.'

'Jim,' said John to me, 'Jim,' and there was a certain tone to his voice. 'Jim, you have been away for a single night. No more, no less. You left for Brighton yesterday, which was Friday, Saint Valentine's Day and you have been returned to Brentford in an ambulance today, which is Saturday. Not a year, Jim, a single day. That is all.' 'No,' I said. 'It cannot be. I was gone for a whole year. Where are my clothes? You will see. Boleskine tweed – Mr Rune acquired them for me.'

'There is no Rune,' said John. 'And no tweeds, Boleskin or otherwise – you were in your undies when they pulled you ashore, the tidal currents had your kit off.' 'No,' I said. 'No.' 'Yes,' said John. 'Yes.'

'But I was there with him. I had adventures, incredible adventures, for an entire year. The Brighton Zodiac. The Brightonomicon. Count Otto Black.'

John Omally shook his head. 'Delirium, Jim. Dreams. You went yesterday, you're back today. Between you and me,' and John did 'talkings from behind his hand', 'I'd let this one drop if I were you, or you might end up in the psychiatric ward for a prolonged stay.' 'But I-' John mimed the wearing of a straitjacket. And very well he mimed it too. And then he took my glass from me, poured further vodka into it and drank it himself. 'Just a single day?' I said. 'You can check the calendar if you want.' 'Just a single day, really?'

'And a single day was quite enough for you. Next time you plan a weekend in Brighton, I'm coming with you.' 'I will not go there again,' I said. 'Ever.'

'Good man,' said John. 'Now, do you think you can find your feet?' 'They are at the end of my legs.'

'Do you think you could persuade them to leave your bed and accompany me down to The Flying Swan for a lunchtime drink?' 'I am a sick man,' I said. 'I am not well.'

'The first round will be on me, to toast your safe return. And the second also – how's that?' 'I do not have any clothes,' I said.

'I've brought you some of mine,' said John. 'Well, not actually mine, they were the daddy's. And they're tweeds, as it happens. Get yourself togged up and I'll meet you outside.' And with that John departed. And I lay back in my hospital bed.

'It was all a dream,' I said to myself. 'Well, that is an original end to an adventure, if ever there was one. You wake up and find that it was all a dream. Well, Mister Rune, my dreamtime companion, if I ever do write the book of our adventures together, I will know how to end it, with a twist in the tail that no one will be expecting – that it was all a dream.'

And with that I rose from my bed and got dressed and left the cottage hospital. And made off with Omally to The Flying Swan.

Well, almost. I was almost out of the door.

'And where do you think you're going?' asked a very stern voice indeed.

I turned to view the stern-looking face that had uttered these very stern words. It belonged to the matron and she stood with folded arms. A badge upon her breast spelled out her name, Ms Mavis Patron.

'Out for a healthy walk in the park?' I suggested. 'Thought I might have a bit of a jog, too. I am all well and cured now.' 'Oh, well and cured, is it? No more shouts of "Help, Mister Rune, save me"?' 'What?' I asked. 'In your hours of delirium.'

'Ah,' said I. 'Those. I am sorry, I was… er… delirious, I suppose.' 'And you're all better now then, are you?' 'Could not be better,' I said. 'It was all a dream, you see.'

'All a dream.' The matron said this slowly. Deliberately. 'You are certain of that, are you?' 'Absolutely certain,' I said. 'Absolutely certain?' 'Absolutely.' The matron nodded, thoughtfully. 'So I will be off,' I said.

The matron nodded slowly and then she smiled. 'Go along, then,' she said. 'And I don't want to see you here again.' 'Nor me,' I said. 'Farewell.' And I made once more for the door. And then I paused and turned back to the matron. 'Just one thing, I said, 'before I go.' 'Yes?' said the matron.

'Well, two things, actually,' I said. 'Firstly, thank you for looking after me.' 'That is what we do,' said the matron. 'And secondly?'

'Well, secondly,' I said, 'if I was hauled from the sea, unconscious and wearing nothing but my underwear, how did anyone know who I was and where I lived, so that I could be brought back here to Brentford?' 'You have your uncle to thank for that,' said the matron. 'My uncle?' I said. 'What uncle?'

'I didn't catch his name,' said the matron. 'He was a very large, imposing gentleman, with a long leather coat and a shaven head. And, oh yes, I almost forgot – he said that I was to give you this.'

And the matron delved into her apron pocket and brought out a drawstring bag. She handed this to me and said, 'Just you be careful in the future, James,' and turned away and went about her business. I weighed the drawstring bag upon my palm. I gave the drawstring bag a little shake. The drawstring bag's contents gave a little rattle. And I knew just what they were.

And so I withdrew the drawstring and emptied the contents into my hand. And there were twelve little badges. And I went down to the pub.

And that is it. The end of my tale. I complete this final chapter with those twelve little badges before me on my desk. They are somewhat faded now and rusted, too, but I look upon them with fondness, with recollection of the adventures that I had with Hugo Rune.

I have had other adventures since that magical year. Many adventures. I am proud to say that it was I who helped defeat the reincarnation of Pope Alexander the Sixth who, like Count Otto, sought to rule the world. I also played my part in foiling the invasion plans of aliens from the lost planet Ceres. Oh, and it was me that took the Brentford United football team on to glory in the World Cup during the opening years of the twenty-first century. Yes, I have lived a long and adventurous life.

I never saw Hugo Rune again, nor Tobes de Valois, nor Count Otto Black. But I know they are out there somewhere, doing what they do, being what they are.

And the rest of the world goes on, unknowing, blind to the wonder and the magic.

But it is there, everywhere, every day, if you take a moment out from that world of the ordinary just to breathe it in, to dream a little, to feel that magic and that wonder.

And we go on. Myself, Jim Pooley, my bestest friend John Omally, and Norman Hartnell (not to be confused with the other Norman Hartnell, of course) and Neville the part-time barman. We are here, in Brentford, in our world, a world unchanged by time and unchanging.

Perhaps if you are ever down our way, you will call in at The Flying Swan and join us, down a pint of Large and talk a little toot. And take time. To wonder. And to dream. Take time. Farewell.