The Steady Running of the Hour: A Novel

For my mother and father

“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”

“None,” said the other, “save the undone years,

The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,

Was my life also; I went hunting wild

After the wildest beauty in the world,

Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,

But mocks the steady running of the hour,

And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here. . . .”

—Wilfred Owen, “Strange Meeting”

The letter came by courier last week.

I knew when I touched the envelope that it was fine stationery. I knew from the paper, the porous surface of pure cotton rag; the watermark that shone through as I held it to the light. The letter is in my bag in the overhead compartment, but I imagine the cream fibers, the feel of the engraved letterhead.
Twyning & Hooper, Solicitors, 11 Bedford Row, London.

The courier knocked at my door, the letter and a clipboard in his hands. He asked for my name.

—It’s a special service, he explained. The sender requested we check ID.

I showed the courier my driver’s license and signed the delivery bill. He set the letter in my hands. On my kitchen counter I pulled the plastic zipper of the express envelope. Inside there was a smaller envelope of cream bond stock.

I read the letter standing over the sink.

Dear Mr Campbell,

I am trustee of an estate of which a substantial portion remains to be distributed. Information has recently come to light that suggests a significant connection between you and the named beneficiary. As we could find no current telephone number for you, we have despatched this letter to your listed home address in the hope of making urgent contact.

I cannot stress enough that the proper resolution of this matter is our utmost concern. Accordingly, I would be most grateful if you could telephone me at your earliest convenience, reverse charge, using the direct-dial number listed above.

For your own benefit, please retain this matter in the strictest confidence until we have had the opportunity to speak.

Yours sincerely,

JF Prichard

Solicitor – Private Client

For and on behalf of Twyning & Hooper LLP

I walked four blocks down Valencia Street to reach a pay phone. Part of the plastic receiver had been smashed off, but when I put it to my ear I heard a dial tone. Three collect-call operators transferred me before I got through to England.

The law firm’s secretary answered. She said Mr. Prichard was away from his desk, but I could speak to a Mr. Geoffrey Khan. Khan sounded breathless when he came on the line.

—So you do exist. My God. James will be delighted, I expect he’ll be retrieved immediately. Listen—in case our connection is severed, could you give me your current phone number? We had enough trouble just finding your address—

—I don’t have a phone right now.

—I see. Well stay on the line, James will be with you momentarily. Tell me, did your grandmother—

Another voice came on to the telephone. The second man sounded older. He enunciated his words with a strange precision.

—James Prichard here. Geoffrey, I can take over.

Khan excused himself and his line clicked silent.

—Mr. Campbell, Prichard said, I’d first like to thank you for calling. If you’ll pardon me, so that we may verify we’re speaking to the correct individual—just in case we’ve blundered—could I trouble you to answer a few simple questions?

I pushed a steel button on the pay phone to increase the volume.

—Sure.

—Splendid. I should add that obviously we are not connected with any official enquiry, and you are not required to speak to us, though it may be in your interest to do so. Naturally, any information you give us will be used only for the resolution of the case, and will be kept in the strictest confidence. Would you mind telling me your mother’s full name?

—Elizabeth Marie Campbell.

—And her maiden name?

—Martel.

—Her place of birth?

—San Francisco.

—Thank you. And your grandmother’s name?

I hesitate. —It was Charlotte Grafton. I don’t know if she had a middle name—

—That’s all right. Do you know her place of birth?

—Somewhere in England.

—Indeed. Thank you for answering my questions. If I may, I’d like to explain briefly why we’re making all this fuss. Nearly eighty years ago, this firm was engaged to draft a rather singular will. Our client passed away not long after the will was completed. Remarkably, the client’s estate was never claimed by the principal beneficiary. What is doubly
remarkable is that the will set up a trust explicitly required to retain its assets until they could be distributed to this beneficiary, or their direct heir. For a host of reasons, this distribution has never been possible.

Prichard paused. Faintly I heard a woman’s voice in the background. Prichard muffled the receiver and replied to her.

—Pardon me, Prichard said. I was recently shown a document that suggests you may be related to this beneficiary. I don’t wish to give you false hope, but we’ve been waiting a long time to fulfill our client’s wishes, and this is the first substantial lead we’ve had in decades. I must emphasize that all this be kept in confidence, for your sake as much as ours. Unwanted attention could be a hindrance to any potential claim of yours.

I told Prichard I understood.

—I do realize, he continued, that this is a lot to digest at once, coming as it does from the other side of the Atlantic. So by all means make enquiries about our firm, look us up. May I ask you something else? Would you happen to know if your family’s vital records are extant? That is, do they survive, and do you have access to them?

—I’m not sure.

—I mean in particular not only your birth certificate and the like, but also your mother’s papers and most especially any papers relating to your grandmother.

—I doubt it, but I could look. I don’t think we have anything from my grandmother.

—I’d be grateful if you could have a look. Geoffrey shall give you a list of the kind of documents we’re interested in.

A fire truck rumbled down the street behind me, the siren’s whine shifting pitch as it went by.

—Quite a bedlam, Prichard said. Are you outside?

—I’m at a pay phone.

—Ah, Prichard sighed. No wonder Geoffrey couldn’t find your number. Well there’s a final thing I wished to mention. I certainly don’t
need an answer now, but I wonder if you might be able to visit London in the near future, at our expense? This case is rather time-sensitive, and much would be expedited by your presence here.

—I don’t know. I might be able to go.

—I’d be pleased to see you here. I understand you’re a university student?

—I just graduated.

—My congratulations. Then perhaps you can delay your entry into the working world long enough for a jaunt to England?

—Maybe—

—Consider it. I shall give you back to Geoffrey to discuss some administrative matters, including our confidentiality policy and the prospect of your journey. He’s your man for all the details. Feel free to contact either of us should you ever need to, of course, but you’ll find he’s more easily reached.

Prichard drew a breath. It was a moment before he spoke.

—Mr. Campbell, I must advise you not to discuss this matter with your family until you’ve closely examined your feelings. I do not encourage deception, but if you are party to any portion of this estate, it is through your mother’s family, and as such would be yours undivided. Neither your father nor your stepmother nor stepsiblings have any possible claim. Thus I advise the utmost discretion.

—I understand.

—I’ll put Geoffrey on now. I shall be forward enough to hope that the next time we speak it shall be in London.

That call was four days ago. They had been long days and it felt good to finally get on the plane this morning. I’ve never flown business class before. All through the flight the stewardesses offer me food and champagne and coffee, until the cabin lights are switched off and everyone pulls back their seat. For an hour I lie wide awake under a blanket. Then I turn on my reading lamp and take out my notebook.

Aug 15

BA Flight SF–London

Barely slept last night. But I still can’t sleep on the plane. After all those plans, always waiting for the right moment—suddenly something happens and I’m on a plane to London. Because I didn’t have a choice, I just had to go or stay. That’s a good lesson.

Tomorrow I meet the lawyers. I couldn’t find anything worth showing them, but they wanted me to come anyway. Why?