Джеффри Арчер - This Was a Man

Giles paused for a moment, as if reflecting, before he continued. ‘They tell me Harry Clifton is dead. I suggest that whoever dares to repeat that slander should look at the bestseller lists around the world, which prove he’s still very much alive. And just as he was about to receive the accolades and garlands that would acknowledge his life’s achievements, the gods decided to step in and remind us that he was human, by striking down the person he most loved.

‘When Harry first learned of Emma’s tragic illness and had to face the fact that she only had a year to live, like every other obstacle that life had placed in his path he faced it head on, even though he accepted that this was a battle that could yield no victory.

‘He immediately dropped everything, even his pen, in order to devote himself to Emma, and do everything in his power to lessen her pain. But none of us who lived with them through those final days fully realized the toll and strain that pain was inflicting on him. Within a few days of Emma’s death, in an ending worthy of one of his novels, he was to die himself.

‘I was at his bedside when he died, and had rather hoped that this man of letters might deliver one final, memorable line. He didn’t let me down. “Giles,” he said, clutching me by the hand, “I’ve just come up with an idea for a new novel.” Tell me more, I said. “It’s about a boy born in the back streets of Bristol, the son of a docker, who falls in love with the daughter of the man who owns the docks.” And what happens next, I asked. “I’ve no idea,” he said, “but I’ll have the first chapter ready by the time I pick up my pen tomorrow morning.”’

Giles looked up towards the heavens and said, ‘I can’t wait to read it.’ Trying desperately to hold himself in check, the words no longer flowing, he turned to the last page of his eulogy, determined not to let his friend down. Ignoring the text, he said quietly, ‘It is true that Harry requested a quiet exit from life’s stage, and I ignored his wishes. I am no Mark Antony,’ said Giles, looking down at the congregation, ‘but I believe the Bard’s words apply every bit as much to Harry as they did to the noble Brutus.’

Giles paused for a moment, before he leant forward and said, almost in a whisper,

‘His life was gentle, and the elements

so mixed in him that nature might stand up

and say to all the world, This was a man!’