Richard was running late.

Normally punctual to a fault and unnerving people when he’d arrive in advance of an appointment and give off an impertinent impatience to his acquaintances, who were made to feel that they were being tardy when in fact they were right on time or even a little early in the conventional sense of the concept.

Life was not a game and tactics to delay the inevitable only got in the way.

He could not abide dilly-dallying.

Some thought this a little odd or affected, especially considering that he was training to be a watchmaker. This requires patience and an application so profound that the laws and agencies that govern us temporarily dissipate and hang in the balance. Or so they seem when one is transfixed. Time and timing was somewhat of a fixation. He’d left off his studies in history to pursue the same profession as his late grandfather.

This had helped to bond the strained relations with his father who thought he was wasting his time on something as impractical as the past.

Tempus Rerum Imperator (Time is the Commander of all Things), as decreed by the motto of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers. TheBritish Horological Institutewas overseeing his apprenticeship, which included a part-time job as a cataloguer with the museum archives at the Royal Observatory in Greenwich.

He had gravitated here naturally enough from a young age out of curiosity in the Prime Meridian and the power and hold over our lives of something as seemingly intangible as the dividing lines of human occupied territories of this planet.

His other preoccupation growing up had been lighthouses and he had toyed with the romantic notion of running away to some far-flung destination to be a ‘keeper of the light’.

Now 22, he still had another couple of years to serve before he could be recognised as qualified.

Greenwich Mean Time had become his guiding principle for organisation and order.

His beacon, if you like, and if he had ever been in more real need of guidance it was today.

Where did this blasted fog come from? I can’t remember a pea-souper this bad in years.

How right he was.

********

I must be here for a reason.

Why else bring me into being?

All I can say is that it’s a murky business intervening on nature’s behalf.

I’m tempted to say that I only feel like a shadow of my former self.

But then, how can I rightly claim to have any sense of my sense of self if by rights I can’t recall what I really was before now? My suspicions fall on deaf ears.

My memory is alert to only this: time and place. The here and now.

A simple enough notion of being aware.

It’s all contained in the atmosphere. Like myself, really.

I overhear it all, from idle gossip and gripes to the news of the day announced by the paper sellers.

I am rather penetrating if I so choose. I see all there is to see, for me that is. Unlike the poor sorry sods plodding and groping about.And that’s in everyday keeping with their customary pilgrimages from home to work and school, the shops, the sites, cafes, cinemas and the like. Heads down and determined, knowing the way by repeated resolve to carry on.

Just like they have always done and will continue to have to do.

And back again, if they can find their way.

I suppose I can claim to have a gift. Almost like second sight.

How do I even know what this is?

A cold snap to start winter and London shivers to greet the day. Still early and the citizens are oblivious to my presence. I am already here, just invisible to them as I coalesce and condense to just the right degree.

Language still baffles me. Where do I get this vocabulary? Another of nature’s gifts? I should be grateful, or I wouldn’t be able to relate this to you unless you can read my mind. Maybe you can for all I know…

********

He had never felt unsure of his surroundings before; never unnerved by a dread of losing his bearings and becoming lost in his own city. That would never do as an excuse for being late.

The trip from Greenwich Park to Piccadilly Circus should have taken less than one hour. A bus to the Elephant and Castle at New Kent Rd, and then the tube to the West End.

What a circus this was turning into. Richard felt like he’d been going around in circles ever since he got off the bus, which leg of the trip had been the slowest he could recall.

It was Saturday afternoon, just after lunch (1 p.m. to be precise), and he’d been back at the observatory to finish up some work leftover from Friday when he and his colleagues had downed tools early for a farewell bash for a retiring senior horologist.

He’d skipped having a bite to eat at work, so he could make better time. At first, he thought he must be mistaken and that it was later than he’d considered. A quick glance out the window made him feel uneasily like he’d stayed back later than he’d planned. His watch and the clocks at the observatory confirmed that it had still been only late morning when it appeared to be early evening.

The antique timepiece he kept on his person was a fob watch which he attached to a pocket of his waistcoat in a dapper fashion becoming of a man with such enlightened interests as his.Richard had inherited the watch from his grandfather who had bequeathed it him. Its origins were mysterious, but grandfather claimed it was Oriental – grandfather ‘acquired’ it while on his travels as a young merchant seaman when he was an apprentice navigator before he decided to become a watchmaker.His navigation skills at the turn of the century lent themselves to the profession as he realised his future was short-lived on the high seas.

The sky was louring and the air had a sickly yellow tinge. The haze had perceptibly become worse since yesterday and even this morning when Richard had gone in to work at 8 a. m.

This was more than the usual fog. It was an atmospheric event.

Traffic was at a virtual standstill and when it did move was at a snail’s pace. In some instances, conductors had to alight from their buses and lead the driver forward with a lantern.

Police had to perform duty at intersections to make sure drivers were doubly aware of the signals, which could not be made out at a sufficiently safe distance to avoid mishap. Flares were being placed on the road as backup to release the bobbies from directing motorists and attend to more serious matters until additional manpower could be called upon. Some had taken to wearing what resembled surgical masks as they were in the thick of the fumes.

Even the simple act of walking now had its attendant risks distinct from those a pedestrian must normally consider when crossing a road. Visibility was down to a mere foot in places and citizens were making their way along the thoroughfares like blind automatons, arms outstretched to grab hold of the air.

Richard himself tripped several times when he failed to see the kerb and had to limit his usual forthright gait to the shuffle of a man thrice his age.

Like most young men his age (and especially those who had served), Richard was a smoker and usually had a cigarette before he went on a date, as Dorothy disliked the habit and was hinting that he should quit.As was his habit, he usually had a smoke after leaving the observatory, but was put off the idea of another en route by the noxious fumes of the atmosphere.

The paper sellers’ cries alerted passers-by to the news that London was indeed in the grip of the worst smog in a generation. The weekend would help decide what restrictions would be put in to effect to try and reduce the phenomenon’s effects on public safety.

Men and women alike resorted to minimising their exposure to the toxic miasma. Some wrapped winter scarves round their faces or held handkerchiefs over their mouths. The number of people about for a Saturday was noticeably lower, as many had decided to remain indoors and listen to the wireless for updates about such unprecedented weather conditions.

After finally finding his way to the tube, Richard made the rest of the way in good time.He was, however, going to be late. Thirty minutes late, to be exact. This would never do.

I hope Dorothy doesn’t think I’ve stood her up.

********

I don’t have a name. Nothing personal. I will have a technical term, but that’s a little too impersonal for our needs.

I am a by-product. Of circumstances and conditions. Ripe, as the fruiterers would say.

Plump. That’ll do. Call me Plump. Takes care of a few associations when you think about it.

Plump by name, plump by nature, if you catch my drift.

Appalling. I’d feel sick if I could.

I am a rather grumpy old bugger, if truth be known.

How would you feel if you were a Shanghaied manifestation of a spirit who didn’t have his sea legs? The father of a family cast adrift. Oh, spare me…

The public will both catch my drift and be sickened on my account.

I am not in any position to apologise, either in arrears or advance for my part in what unfolds. I cover time and am at the mercy of its apparent dues.

Like fines. And yet, everyone will be bound to chime in and cough up.

You can at least attribute to me a sense of humour. For this I am grateful.

I can’t very well have any regrets.

I am merely an instrument, a contrivance. Here to serve.

At her Majesty’s displeasure, if I may be so bold…

********

Richard had arranged to meet Dorothy at the Shaftesbury memorial fountain before they went to see a movie matinee.‘Singing in the Rain’ was playing and Dorothy loved the way Gene Kelly could make dancing look so effortless. She never suspected that Richard might have thought Debbie Reynolds was ‘smashing’. He was too smart for that. She was his girl, after all, and besides, Gene Kelly was not her type. He just looked good up on the big screen.

Dorothy worked as a primary school teacher and longed for the weekend when she could escape the confines of living at home with her parents and spend her spare time with Richard. They had been an item for a couple of years and had met while they were both studying after being introduced by friends at a college dance.

What the devil could have kept him? He said he’d be here half an hour ago now. Very out of character.

Dorothy stood on the steps leading up to the fountain as arranged. She’d initially been early herself, thinking that Richard would be true to form. When he hadn’t been early himself, she had popped over to a café for a cup of tea. She had the fountain in full view from her window seat vantage, but still had not seen the familiar figure approach from the direction of the tube.

Where did this terrible weather come from? I can hardly see my hands in front of my face.

Back on the steps, patiently awaiting her paramour’s late arrival, Dorothy fidgeted with her head scarf and even considered removing it to hold over her nose, so she didn’t breathe in the nasty air. She thought better of this as her hair would then be in a right state before she could bathe and wash her ‘do’ on Sunday.

He better have a good excuse. We’ll miss the movie at this rate.

Dorothy was in two minds as to whether she should pop back over to the café for another cuppa, or go and find a phone box to ring and see if he had been detained at the observatory.

She hugged her overcoat to herself and clasped her handbag to her side for reassurance and to keep out the cold.

********

What a way to end the working week?

Friday seems to have held the promise of a fine weekend.

Still early, no inkling yet. Clear skies foretell and cease to forestall.

These new busses will make a fine contribution. So long electric trams. Hello diesel.

A logical expression of a shrinking formerly expansive realm, when you think about it. The desire to go further afield lingers long in the hearts of Empire.Those overhead cables just got in the way.

The Thames will forget its shame next to me.

Not that I’m ashamed, mind you. It’s the river that will pale in comparison to my debris.

Keep the home fires burning. A patriotic duty, even after the war. Households are doing their bit, as are the factories and state of the art power plants keeping the city chugging along.

Coal would seem to be the jewel in the crown.

An essential ingredient in this recipe for the system to stew and shift a little. A stain on Blighty behoves us to play the blame game.

Right on time as usual. Big Ben proclaims his view on tidings. 12 noon and the day is closing in.

The veil descends.

Nothing to alarm the populace yet.

Just the usual mystification of the all too human condition. It’s what London is famous for, after all. How else could the centre of the Industrial Revolution avoid its place in the sun?

I feel rather soupy.

Frowsy.

Drowsy.

And it’s only just gone 2 p.m.

Where does the time go?

It is high time to give shape to the day…

********

Big Ben’s quarter bells chimed the half hour for 2:30 p.m.

As if on cue, from out of the gloom appeared the tall, unmistakeable figure of Richard. He was not moving at his usual pace and seemed to be feeling his way towards Dot (or ‘sweet’ as he often called her.)

He waved and readjusted his turned-up trench coat collar.

And what time do you call this then, Mr. Punctual?

Richard had the urge to clear his throat and spit, but controlled this aberration and swallowed what felt like gritty saliva and smiled winningly, before giving Dot a peck on her cheek.

Don’t think you can butter me up as easily as that. I almost gave up the ghost in hope you’d turn up. And what a turn up it is. What kept you?

Richard stood close by, but still peered at Dot to make her out beyond the tone of her voice.

I feel like a ghost myself, floating about through all this.

He spread his arms wide to indicate the enveloping murk.

Sorry sweet, the bus took an eternity. The roads were at a standstill in parts. A crawl at best. Not easy to make headway in this stuff. Seems to be getting worse if I’m any judge.

Well, you’re just lucky you have a visible alibi.

How could I make this up? We’ll all vanish at this rate.

Don’t you dare do any vanishing act on me. I want you right where I can see you.

Right by your side.

Such a charmer.

Only to be worthy of you, sweet.

Dot smiled and her teeth’s natural calcium brightness almost cut through the semi-dark.

Richard couldn’t help himself and had a vision of a clifftop lighthouse overlooking a storm-tossed ocean at night. The single beam reaching out to escort on its appointed effulgence a vessel through the treacherous waters to safe harbour.

Dick, you’re wandering on me. Hello, Richard. This is Piccadilly Circus calling…

He was back.

Sorry sweet. It’s like this muck is getting inside my head to clog up the thinking valves. It’s hard to concentrate out in this.

Dot rolled her eyes, a reaction lost on her companion. Any actions had to be big and accentuated to get through.

I suggest we head straight to the cinema or we may miss out on tickets. Have you eaten yet?

I was waiting to eat with you. I’ll be fine. We can dine out afterwards, as I hoped we would.

You’ll just have to get by on an ice cream from the kiosk.

Not really ice cream weather, I would have thought.

You could say the same for our choice of movie.

Well, you can’t very well sing with a mouth full of ice cream.

If I had an umbrella now, you would have a sore head.

Richard put out the crook of his arm for Dot to slip hers round.

Let’s be on our way, sweet. I only hope the cinema is where we left it last.

Nothing would surprise me today. Nothing at all.

********

Not even the uncertainty that it seemed to take an interminable time to navigate their way the relatively short distance from Piccadilly Circus to the Odeon Cinema at Leicester Square.

Holding close together, Richard and Dorothy had gamely made their way along Coventry Street.

It hadn’t seemed worth it to get a cab, especially since the traffic was at a near standstill.

It’s already like night. How can you see the way?

Richard did his level best to sound unperturbed.

I know this city like the back of my hand.

Is that why you’re holding it out in front of you like that?

Richard chuckled and placed his free searching hand over his eyes to peer out through his spread fingers.

Any better?

No, no improvement.

He let his hand fall and tucked it in to cradle their arms joined between them as a gesture of reassurance.

The street lights had already come on and struggled to penetrate the gloom. The lights were also being turned on in shops along the way, as if to indicate that it was business as usual.

We’ll be fine. We still have time. No need to risk an accident just so we don’t miss the curtain raiser.

Then lead the way and I’ll entrust myself to your sense of direction.

Richard opened his eyes wide as if to refocus and then immediately resumed his uncharacteristic squint.

We must have faith in something, I suppose.

Oh, my lacklustre prince.

What does that have to do with the price of fish?

Or all the tea in China, I suppose?

I could swear this atmosphere is having a queer effect on you. 1 shilling and 8 pence a piece is a small ransom to pay for the safe house our movie tickets will give us….

Richard just managed to complete his cockeyed statement when he stopped short and pulled himself up like a reflexively under-rehearsed dressage rider.

Beg your pardon. Didn’t see you there. This is the damnedest pea-souper.

The figure that had suddenly materialised right in front of them also came to a halt.

Reminds me of the blackouts we had to suffer, but then we wouldn’t have been so foolish as to venture out during a raid. At least we could count on sufficient warning…

True enough, but not much of a warning about this. Go carefully, now.

Righto. Think I’ll pack it in for the day and head home. If I can find it, that is…

The trio partook of a brief jocular recognition of the circumstances and exchanged farewells.

I could hardly see his face.

And how do you know he had one?

Oh, stop your teasing.

He appeared out of nowhere like a ghoul. I wouldn’t fancy encountering Jack the Ripper out in this.

Dorothy shuddered at the thought.

That’s enough of your rot. Cut it out and let’s get indoors.

Richard laughed and pulled Dorothy closer.

They could just make out the neon signage and lights from the Odeon across the other side of the square, beckoning them just like the lighthouse in Richard’s childish daydreams.

Never doubt a safe passage with yours truly.

You’d do worse than to take out a patent on such confidence.

And I thought you enjoyed a little good-natured bluster.

You are slick, I’ll give you that much.

The cinema wasn’t as crowded as they’d anticipated.

Seemed like the smog was deterring people from heading out.

You can’t blame them, really.

So, what does that say about us then, sweet?

Well, I wasn’t going to do an about-face when I’d been looking forward to this all week.

Ice cream?

I don’t mind if I do.

********

I acknowledge having no direct, conscious control over how proceedings unfold.

It’s as if it has a mind of its own. That’s nature for you.

As I said before, I am but a by-product. Fuelled by human nature to keep warm, keep moving and keep on top of things.

I’ll show them how to keep on top of things.

Anyway, down to particulars.

I am the creation of rather unique elements.

Everything has to be just right, or I won’t take off, as it were.

First you need the cold snap over a preceding duration, to both instil in people the habit of stoking the hearths and still the air above the metropolis.

Think of it like a birthday layer cake. (I’m like the smoke from the blown-out candles.)

In between the sponges you have the lower spread of jammy cold air pressed down tight by the uppers of warm clotting air (the cream and candles themselves).

The cold air is trapped with nowhere to go so long as the pressure from the expectations of the birthday boy and invited guests holds its own and the cake remains of one piece.

Even once the trick candles are finally blown out, the anti-climax will be such that the pressure will force the party to suggest in unison for a round of Murder in the Dark, while drinks are served as a distraction and before singing for He’s a Jolly Good Fellow will sound inappropriate.

It’s just a symbol. And a reminder not to leave the cake out of the ice box or under wraps beneath a food tent for any unsupervised length of time. No one will dare risk it…

********

The girl at the refreshment kiosk informed Richard that the Odeon had been spared the worst up ‘til then. Other cinemas and theatres had had to turn patrons away and cancel the schedule.

Here you go, sweet.

Armed with confectionary, they gave their tickets to the usher and made their way inside to the land of make-believe.

Once seated they peered around at the near empty seats and waited for the lights to go down.

Surprisingly few of the cinema patrons were smoking, as they felt too nauseous at the prospect after spending time out of doors in the polluted atmosphere.

Given that people were probably put off the idea of smoking inside the cinema because of the ashtray-like muck outside, or due to the poor attendance, the air inside was relatively crisp and clear. Just like the projection the couple were soon to be enthralled by.It will be like we came in here at night by the time we leave. Won’t know which way is up or down.

Richard did not reply at once as he was beginning to make inroads into his ice cream.

I only hope the buses are still running. There’s been talk of limiting the service if the light gets any worse. Some cabbies have already called it quits, according to my source.

The ice cream girl, I presume?

Naturally.

Dot didn’t reply and Richard didn’t skip a beat with the update on the situation.

Seems that this smoke or whatever it is has even managed to start getting inside, making it too difficult to see what’s going on. Not to mention uncomfortable breathing in the stuff.There’s even talk on the wireless of issuing masks to the public if it continues tomorrow.

Well it will be Sunday. Can’t imagine it hanging round for too long.

I’m not so sure.

What if it’s worse on Monday? Surely that would mean keeping the little ones at home?

Hmmm, wishful thinking.

Well, you just wait and see.

Richard nearly choked on his ice cream.

Aw, cut it out. Let’s not spoil the picture show.

And with that, the lights dimmed subliminally, bringing a tear to the eye before the main feature was anywhere in sight.

Richard wiped his hands on his handkerchief and gave his nose a good blow.

Dot followed his lead and plumped her coat on the seat next to her, and rearranged the hem of her skirt.

Their hands met on the arm rest between them.

Life really was as sweet as all that.

********

Really quite simple weather and social patterns, consistency of sponge and fillings, and chemistry is all.The great commingling.

You’ll have to forgive me my rather poor attempt at analogy as I’m still learning the subtleties or otherwise of this serviceable means of expression.

I don’t remember ever having had a birthday, but I feel as though I will be remembered and celebrated if only as a salutary lesson.

Now, what have I forgotten? As if I even knew for starters.

Oh, hell’s bells. I should know this.

Smells like turpentine and onions? No, that’s not it.

Hang on, wait a minute…

Rotten eggs? Yes! That’s it.

Sulphur. The underworld. Wherever that is in the equation.

Never much good at relative geography or mathematics, either.

The great burn-off from the combined coal output of the city is trapped.

As unconscionable as such a foul stench is without its flatulent origins, it is the very lack of wind that is responsible for failing to disperse the grim convergence of circumstance (minus the pomp for unequal measure).

That about sums it up.

The stage is set.

And everyone’s in the dark. What a lark. Not that you could make out a single starling to light the way.

Leave that to the hapless burghers of this infernal city.

Now, where did I put my damned bearings?

********

I'm singing in the rain

Just singing in the rain

What a glorious feelin'

I'm happy again

I'm laughing at clouds

So dark up above

The sun's in my heart

And I'm ready for love

Let the stormy clouds chaseEveryone from the place

Come on with the rain

I've a smile on my face

I walk down the lane

With a happy refrain

Just singin',

Singin' in the rain…

The couple just couldn’t drag themselves away from their seats.

They were in awe of the technicolour spectacle they had just seen and remained seated after the final credits rolled and the lights imperceptibly came back up.

I can’t get that tune out of my head.Isn’t it just so catchy?

Richard squeezed Dot’s hand and began to whistle the show’s tune.I would love to be able to dance like that. It seems so effortless.

Well, Grace is your middle name.

Dot shot Dick (as she referred to him in moments of sheer abandon, anxiety or for stern remonstrance) a look of approval and returned the squeeze.

Flattery will get you everywhere, young man.

I hope so, sweet. I promise to even start dancing lessons again to keep you happy.

Are you sure, now? I’d be careful and think about it. It’s a big commitment.

Especially for someone with two left feet.

The couple laughed at themselves and then realised the cinema had gone completely quiet.They were aware of being watched and saw the usher glance away and continue his routine check of the stalls for any neglected belongings and discarded confectionary wrappers, which he efficiently swept into the aisle with a straw broom.

Where did everyone go suddenly?

Dot was looking about their position in the middle of the cinema. Not a soul remained.

Well, it wasn’t a full house to start with. I suppose people wanted to make a quick get-away and avoid the rush. I wonder what it’s like outside?

Richard nodded at the usher as he approached their position.

Looks like we’re about to be given our marching orders.

The usher came to the end of their row.

Well, ladies and gents, I hope you enjoyed the show. We had a full house for the premiere, and you had the place almost all to yourselves. How did you arrange that?

I loved it. I could see it again…

Dick shot Dot a look, this time of appeal.

I am a tad peckish, sweet. Maybe dinner first and then we could find a dance hall, if you’ll permit me the honour.

Dot coloured with embarrassment and smoothed the pleats in her skirt.

The gentleman has a fine idea, if I do say so myself. I’m sure circumstances will permit another screening in no time. However, you see, we must close early today, and the normal evening session will have to be postponed. What, with all that rubbish in the air out there. We’re doing our level best to keep it out of the foyer, but…

He pulled down his smart red tunic taught upon his torso and placed his hands behind his back.

It is rather strange, I’ll admit. It’s lucky the Odeon is lit up like it is or we could have sailed right on passed.

Richard smiled with satisfaction to himself at his clever figure of speech and patted his twill trousered thighs with his palms.

We must close because public safety. As soon as we get the all clear we’ll be open again for business as usual. We pride ourselves on keeping the customers happy.

Well, time and tide wait for no man…

Dot cast Dick a baffled look.

Or lady, I should think.

I stand corrected.

At this pronouncement, Richard sprang to his feet and offered Dot his hand.

I thought you’d never ask.

I’ll leave you two to gather your things and will see you out in the foyer.

With that the usher turned on his heels and walked decisively out of the cinema, leaving his small piles of litter in his wake.

I’m surprised he doesn’t just put a match to them and create little signal fires, if what he says about the air outside creeping in is true.

Come on inspector. Let’s do the right thing before he sweeps us out.

When they emerged from the cinema interior there was no trace of the usher. The kiosk was unattended and its shutters up.

The foyer’s deserted. Where did he get to?

Dot was adjusting her coat and refastening her scarf as she peered about the empty space.

Maybe they’re waiting for us on the red carpet outside for a grand exit.

Don’t be so daft, Dick.

Richard was slightly taken aback by her tone.

Right at that moment the lighting began to flicker, accompanied by an ominous buzzing and crackling throughout the foyer.

It’s not a drill, is it?

I didn’t hear any announcement. I’m sure the usher wouldn’t have left us in the lurch like that. Doesn’t seem his style. C’mon, let’s see what it’s all about.

They made quick passage through the cavernous reception area and headed directly for the main doors.

I don’t remember this. Do you?

I can’t say I do.

Very funny.

Oh, you know what I mean.

The main doors remained open as usual, but there was no glimpse of the street outside.There was some sort of obstacle covering the outside of the entrance. It was reminiscent of a huge, panelled eiderdown; segments of padding more suited to a bivouac than a renowned pleasure palace, which hung down over the doors and even the windows.

The couple paused in the vestibule and looked to each other for reassurance.

I’ve heard of blackout precautions before, but this is surely taking things too far. I didn’t hear of any imminent threat of attack.

Dot didn’t seem to appreciate the mocking tone.

Oh, please Dick. This is something altogether strange and new. We are not at war, now.

And what do you suggest then?

Dot had pulled slightly away from her companion, as if to assert her opinion as valuable.

Based on the odd weather of late, I would guess that it’s some sort of filter to keep the smog at bay.

And what of the usher and kiosk attendant? Where did they get to?

Aren’t you curious to find out?

Richard noted her hint of persuasion with a slow nodding motion of his head. He fished in his vest pocket for his reliable timepiece to establish their relative passage to this point of the day.

That’s strange. It’s stopped…

You haven’t been overwinding it I hope.

Richard held it to his ear. Nothing. The mechanism had completely wound down.

Well, that’s a first. It’s never skipped a beat.

What time do you have?

It’s stopped at about the same time we arrived.

Dorothy checked her graceful wristwatch.

Mine says 5.15 p.m. That’s about right, isn’t it?

Richard snapped the fob’s case shut and returned it to his pocket.

I suppose so. Oh, well, another thing to set to rights.

C’mon, let’s get a move on. We don’t want to get caught out if the sun isn’t even on our side today.

Richard took a couple of steps forward and used his foot to nudge the bottom of the main flap aside while he put his shoulder to the upper segment and muscled his weight through, holding the heavy material open for Dorothy to follow him.

That’s as heavy and unwieldy as a wet hessian sack full of spuds.

Smells like a wet cat, too.

Richard let the membrane fall back in to place and the cinema was left in darkness. Not even an outline of light escaped through the cracks.

Things outside had not improved one jot.

These conditions are dreadful. It’s like standing over a great big chimney, or right in the fireplace.

Dorothy coughed and tried to catch her breath and composure.

Imagine the poor sods down the mines. All we need now is a canary…

Richard tried to get his bearings. The street lamps were proving hardly adequate to cope with the haze and the square proved indistinguishable from other dark shapes looming in the foreground.

Are you sure we came out at the right exit?

Same way we came in, sweet.

I feel like we’ve been out all night.

Let’s walk a little way and see if we can find a cab in all this.

Dorothy put her arm though Richard’s and they gingerly set off at a snail’s pace through what seemed like a completely unfamiliar environment.

I feel like I’ve come down behind enemy, lines.

Things don’t sound right.

The couple stopped and listened.

The usual city noises sounded heightened and almost hemmed in. An unusual mix of invisible quarrelling voices overlayed with a hum of carriageway traffic, horns and all.And there was a curious caterwauling musical accompaniment like otherworldly woodwinds and ghastly violins accusing one another in a musical exchange of abuse.

Are you sure we’re not still inside the cinema and haven’t accidentally walked into another feature?

Strange seating if we have, sweet.

Just then from out of the haze a shape zoomed past them with the quick blast of a horn and disappeared into the enshrouding surrounds.

What the Dickens was that?

Dot held on to Richard with both arms around his middle.

Richard shook his head for the sake of regained clarity of thought, as much as vision.

Looked like a motorcycle with a big bread box mounted on top for a cabin to sit in.

Where did it come from?

Search me. The damnedest thing.

The laneway that they had unwittingly found themselves on was slowly becoming more congested.

Where did the square go? And don’t say ‘search me’.

The faces of the other pedestrians were concealed behind the all-enveloping mist mask.Some figures even wore surgical masks. Most just sucked it in as a reversal of the mist produced by warm breath in the cold.

I’ll say one thing, I’d be hard pressed to identify anyone in a line-up.

Is it just me or are we getting lots of looks? It feels like everyone is staring.

We do seem to be being given a wide berth.

The squinting, peeping eyes of the other pedestrians hinted at an elongation of amused, sneering curiosity.

The ambient score now included a baton relay of laugher along the way.

The laneway itself was unlike anything the couple had seen, even in the East End.

Small shops abutted each other and displayed gaudy decorations that could still be made out through the soupy smog. They appeared to reflect a light source that was directed at them in their honour. Images of snakes adorned the windows and doors of the establishments whose line of business could only be guessed at.

Red lanterns hung along each side of the lane, which was contested by both foot and motorised traffic, and which only managed to resemble a certain distant red planet until immediately within their orbit.

I feel as though we’ve gone back in time to some sort of pagan festival.

Richard snorted a laugh.

I told you all that reading will just fill your head with fantastic notions. What we need now is a scientific approach.

Oh, reason with me, will you now?

You know what I mean, sweet.

The laneway came to a bend and gave out onto a plaza.

Richard and Dorothy came to a stop and surveyed what they could make out before them.

In the midst of the open space was a mass of people moving this way and that. The couple observed the action taking place before them with a passive perplexity.

This area had been lit up by great arc lights that would not have been out of place on a movie set. A group of limber limbed individuals moved as one in a choreographed dance routine set to a music with an insistent percussive element and what could only be likened to a siren – the warning device, not the falsetto voice emanating from a public-address system someone had set up on the back of a flat-bed tricycle.

Since when did surgical masks become the go-to fashion accessory?

Maybe you should have gone in to nursing instead of teaching.

Dot gave Dick a quick little kick to his instep as rebuke.

Now you’ve done it. Don’t think I’ll be dancing tonight.

We won’t be doing anything unless we can find out where we are.

Well, I suppose we’d better ask someone.

A very sound scientific approach.

Richard made to utter a response, when Dorothy turned away from him at the sound of several voices conversing in high spirits.At least that was something she recognised and understood, thanks to her O Levels.

French, Richard, they’re speaking in French!

Richard looked round and could make out the gathered group in an insouciant posture, mildly amused at the surrounding proceedings, including the strangely dressed couple.

Richard gathered himself and checked his bearing.

Where did they come from?

Don’t worry about that now, let’s find out what they know.

Before Richard could protest, Dorothy had moved away, tugging him by the hand to follow. He quickly and smoothly disengaged himself and followed of his own accord.

Dorothy approached the group of several men and women, some of whom sported the same surgical style masks as those of the majority already encountered. She self-consciously introduced herself.

Bonjour. Je suis Dorothy. C’est Richard.

Richard unconsciously beamed with pride at her facility with the language.

Bonjour.

Parlez vous Anglais?

The central figure of the group was the first to speak. He was tall, mid-twenties and dressed in what appeared to be very casual training attire that seemed to be made of parachute silk, and fluorescent shoes that resembled Marshmallows that glowed in the dark.

Oui. Er, excusez-moi. Pardon me. Yes, we do.

He extended his free hand that was not holding a cigarette and offered it to shake with the couple.

Please to meet you. I am Chevy. These are my workmates and friends.

Greetings and introductions ensued all round as the group continued to survey the couple who were obviously out of their depth.

Richard’s curiosity was piqued and he had to ask the obvious.

You work here? What do you do?

We could ask you the same thing.

Uncomfortable laughter did the now established rounds of the encircled group.

I am a watchmaker and Dorothy is a school teacher.

Cool. There are lots of teachers here from all over. A watchmaker?

Yes. I have almost finished my apprenticeship.

Chevy’s companion Marcel spoke up.

You are doing an apprenticeship? But, you seem our same age, or a little older, perhaps…

Yes, we are in our early twenties, although I shouldn’t speak for Dorothy. It’s still a woman’s prerogative…

A couple of the females hooted their reproof.

Tu sembles démodé.

Dorothy looked askance at her inquisitor.

Chevy glared at the young woman who had made the remark.

Chantelle, please. Our new friends confide in us. Please do them the courtesy of speaking English. I can tell Richard here does not share Dorothy’s talent.

Chantelle glowered at Chevy, but smiled to salvage the situation.

Forgive me. I was just making an observation.

Dorothy smiled convincingly in return.

Marcel took up the thread of conversation.

You are English?

Richard prickled at the seeming inanity of the question.

Well, obviously.

You like the retro look.

Richard looked bemused.

I’m not sure what that is.

You seem very nostalgic.

The group shared a nervous delight at the repartee.

Dorothy put her arm through Richard’s and smiled at him.

Yes, you could say he is rather dreamy.

It seemed the ice had broken.

I just wish we could find our way home through all this mirk. I don’t mean to sidestep our hospitality to visitors, but I wish we could just find our way home.

Chevy produced his packet of cigarettes and offered one to the couple. Dorothy politely declined, and looked at Richard to see how he would react.

I must admit that I don’t feel inclined to smoke in these conditions. Kind of makes one feel as if he has already overdone it. Then again, I could always take one for later.

Richard accepted the unrecognisable cigarette and matter-of-factly put it behind his ear.

Sorry to say it is not a Gauloises. Very hard to get here. This local brand is OK.

Chevy held out the pack for Richard to inspect.

It was red with unrecognisable characters on the front alongside a picture of what looked like a golden palace.

We love our Chungwha. To the Great Helmsman himself!

Chevy took another for himself and lit up.

Smells rather plummy.

You have a good nose, my friend.

Chantelle piped up with her tuppence worth.

The girls prefer to smoke Zhongnanha.

She winked at Dorothy and exhaled an extraordinarily large plume of second hand smoke for such a petite frame as hers.

The smoke expanded on the limbo-like locus they found themselves a part of, incubating all sensation and perception.

It played at the nostrils and eyes like embracing finger wisps.

The ears momentarily succumbed to a loss of equilibrium.

It was as if Dorothy and Richard were under the influence of some sedative administered vicariously via their fellow sojourners.

They were receptive recipients of a course of therapy akin to a kind of hypnosis. An insubstantial pocket watch descended to swing to and fro before them, inducing some kindred trance-like state.

Richard found himself uttering uncontrollably.

Of course, of course, we’d be happy to accept your invitation.

Richard, don’t make such a fool of yourself. At least give Chevy a chance.

At this point the sky seemed to rip apart and explode into splinters of blinding light and deafening sound.

A communal sense of overwhelming joy transfused the instant to become an indefinable kind of affinity with infinity itself.

For all Dorothy and Richard knew, it could have gone on and on…

They were stunned. Never had they been witness to such a spectacle without fearing for their lives.

The group of French ex-pats began to dance round and round the couple singing something inexplicable in French, even to Dorothy.

Sshin-nyen kwhy-lerSshin-nyen haowwGwor-nyen haowwGong-sshee faa-tseye

Marcel continued to cast the spell.

Happy New Year! Happy Year of the Snake! Happy 2013!

Dorothy couldn’t help herself.

Bonne année!

Richard found himself breaking into song.

Should old acquaintance be forgotAnd never brought to mindShould all acquaintance be forgotAnd auld lang syne…

Dorothy was struck with such exuberance that she broke into a song and dance routine, much to the delight of her audience.

… Let the stormy clouds chaseEveryone from the place

Come on with the rain

I've a smile on my face

I walk down the lane

With a happy refrain

Just singin',

Singin' in the rain…

They all joined in for a hearty reprise.It ended when Dorothy fell into Richard’s arms gasping.

Chevy was quick to suggest an alternative to more fireworks.

The invitation still stands. We’re going to a special private screening of a film and you are most welcome to join us. If it’s not an inconvenient truth…Marcel agreed.

It will give you a chance to get a breath of air fresh conditioned atmosphères and clear your heads, no…

Chantelle counted her friends in to a unanimous pre-ordained cheer.

Un, deux, trois, quatre,Dites à l'air ce que nous aimons entendre:

Se faire baiser l’airpocalypse!

Dot really let herself go and blurted, much to Dick’s unfazed mien,

Too right, fuck the airpocalypse!

Inspired, Richard plucked the cigarette from behind his ear, popped it in his mouth, clicked his fingers and the world ignited.

********

The following weekend and Richard met Dorothy as usual for a Saturday matinee, a meal and then, who knew what.

They did not retrace their footsteps of the previous week, as much out of superstition as wanting to keep things fresh.

They sat in a café not far from the observatory, where Richard would often go for a cup of tea.

It had been a tumultuous week in the Capital for all concerned.The great smog had finally lifted when the weather changed after five days and everyone could literally breathe a sigh of relief.

Things had begun to shift for Richard also.

It came as an epiphany and he had been grateful. One could try and put on a bright exterior and claim that everything happened for a reason, but he couldn’t shake the conviction that conditions had conspired to transform the course of events.

Dorothy sat and listened patiently as he explained his change of heart. Not for her, but for his future, their future and the future of the quickly changing modern world.

After much introspection and unrivalled guidance, he had determined to alter for the better his allotted station in life. He realised he couldn’t very well go on starting and stopping in his endeavours, so this would be it. Once and for all.

He would do the right thing by his revered forbear and finish his apprenticeship, but he would not pursue a career in the realm of the Worshipful Company of Clockmakers.

Instead, he would carry on earning a wage at the observatory to support himself and his plans.

Besides, how else could he keep his girl in the style to which she was accustomed?

In the meantime, he wanted to involve himself in local politics with a focus on conditions faced by the residents of greater London.After the great smog, he was confronted by the unavoidable certainty that at the current rate of development and modernization, the world in which they lived would increasingly come under greater and more perilous pressures.

He had an unshakeable presentiment that the system could not sustain such rapid expansion at the expense of the environment.

The environment could not withstand such growth if nature continued to be mistreated in the way she was apprehended.

Dorothy seized on the sense he was speaking and said she would support his decision.

She had visions of his doing great things and said she saw him as a leader and teacher, able to bring about a significant difference in the way people saw the world around them and appreciate how lucky they were. And stop taking things for granted.

As I for one do not.

She spoke light-heartedly of how she had fancied being the wife of an influential politician; a future Prime Minister and elder statesman. Who does not smoke…

I foresee a pact to act on dirty air. Hear, hear!

A nice turn-of-phrase, but perhaps without so much emphasis on the ‘elder’ part of the equation, if you wouldn’t mind, sweet. Still plenty of time…

And so, it went.

Almost the new year. 1953.

Richard produced his fob watch, which he had successfully repaired during the week after the deluge of soot had engulfed the city.

Dorothy smiled at his particular charms and admired his face as he consulted that of his watch.

You know what they say about how time flies when you’re having fun?

Time slows down when I’m with you, or that’s how it feels for me.

Well, we had better get a move on, or we’re going to be late for ‘With a Song in My Heart’.

Oh, Richard…

By Michael Haward.