what might be called neophobic, culturally attached to the past?Or was this just an evolutionary process caused by the flow of cash: in the squeeze, anything that had smacked of modernity had just unknowingly suffered from those customers not showing up?Maybe not.It wasn’t as if the individuals they’d met at the New Age fair were rolling in it.Exactly the opposite.
He went to join the man at a corner table, and now the bloke felt able to look up and acknowledge his presence.‘I’m on your side.I really am.’
Sefton kept looking stern.Let him talk.His aim here was to find out as much as possible about the culture this man belonged to, and perhaps get an invitation to move further in, to meet more of them.The now-urgent need the man had to express some sort of fellow feeling might be an excellent engine to power that along.
‘But you can’t just march across all the lines.You have to tread carefully.’
What lines? Costain always liked to say that Sefton asked too many questions when undercover.But, sod him, Sefton was in his own world now.‘Are you disrespecting me?’
From the wince on the man’s face, that had been the wrong thing to say.‘Why do you keep doing that?Whatever the Keel brothers might want, speaking like that is going too far.’
As his training had taught him, Sefton did the opposite of what he wanted to, looking aside as if being accepted, being invited to become part of this community in some way, was nothing to him.‘I know it’s hard, in your position—’ the man started to say.‘You don’t know anything, mate.’
‘I’m only on the fringes myself.But when I’m in their places I do my best to talk their language.You know, to speak all old-fashioned London.All that Mary Poppins music-hall nonsense.It’s just what they’ve always done.’
He meant how Ross’ fortune-teller at the New Age fair had talked.So that was what this guy was worried about – his speech patterns.Just as well he hadn’t gone total Peckham on him.
‘I know the Keel brothers and others are trying to force changes now, that a generational thing of some kind is going on, and that suits me too…’
Sefton filed that one away for future reference.
‘… but you can’t get everything you want at once.Might as well work out which way the wind is going to end up blowing.I know I’m only in the very first stages.And I know it must be a lot worse for … for you…’
‘For black people, you mean?’
He hesitated again, big time.‘I’m not one of the people who feel you’re automatically too modern.There have been … people of African descent in London for centuries.’
So this was definitely about being seen as too modern. Something not from whatever ‘golden age’ people like that fortune-teller harked back to.
So, hey, entering that shop and heading into the serious stuff at the back must be something you didn’t often see people of colour doing.To this bloke, encountering Sefton had been like getting onto the bus and having Rosa Parks sit down next to him.‘Right,’ he said.‘It’s time for a change.’
‘Are you going to the Goat?’He had lowered his voice, so it seemed that mentioning it in public was dangerous.But he’d also said it as if it was obvious that Sefton would know what he was on about.
Sefton narrowed his eyes and made as if to get up, again doing the opposite of what the man wanted rather than reveal his own lack of knowledge.Again, it worked.The man leaped to his feet, obviously feeling that he’d offended Sefton in some way.‘Listen, I know about what they say is going to happen there this month.I’m a regular, just on the first level, not every Thursday, but at least on the first Thursday.People are saying that now that the Keel brothers have bought the place, it might get easier for me to, you know, get downstairs.That they’re going to change the rules.You must know something about that.’
The man was obviously assuming that Sefton’s skin colour
He went to join the man at a corner table, and now the bloke felt able to look up and acknowledge his presence.‘I’m on your side.I really am.’
Sefton kept looking stern.Let him talk.His aim here was to find out as much as possible about the culture this man belonged to, and perhaps get an invitation to move further in, to meet more of them.The now-urgent need the man had to express some sort of fellow feeling might be an excellent engine to power that along.
‘But you can’t just march across all the lines.You have to tread carefully.’
What lines? Costain always liked to say that Sefton asked too many questions when undercover.But, sod him, Sefton was in his own world now.‘Are you disrespecting me?’
From the wince on the man’s face, that had been the wrong thing to say.‘Why do you keep doing that?Whatever the Keel brothers might want, speaking like that is going too far.’
As his training had taught him, Sefton did the opposite of what he wanted to, looking aside as if being accepted, being invited to become part of this community in some way, was nothing to him.‘I know it’s hard, in your position—’ the man started to say.‘You don’t know anything, mate.’
‘I’m only on the fringes myself.But when I’m in their places I do my best to talk their language.You know, to speak all old-fashioned London.All that Mary Poppins music-hall nonsense.It’s just what they’ve always done.’
He meant how Ross’ fortune-teller at the New Age fair had talked.So that was what this guy was worried about – his speech patterns.Just as well he hadn’t gone total Peckham on him.
‘I know the Keel brothers and others are trying to force changes now, that a generational thing of some kind is going on, and that suits me too…’
Sefton filed that one away for future reference.
‘… but you can’t get everything you want at once.Might as well work out which way the wind is going to end up blowing.I know I’m only in the very first stages.And I know it must be a lot worse for … for you…’
‘For black people, you mean?’
He hesitated again, big time.‘I’m not one of the people who feel you’re automatically too modern.There have been … people of African descent in London for centuries.’
So this was definitely about being seen as too modern. Something not from whatever ‘golden age’ people like that fortune-teller harked back to.
So, hey, entering that shop and heading into the serious stuff at the back must be something you didn’t often see people of colour doing.To this bloke, encountering Sefton had been like getting onto the bus and having Rosa Parks sit down next to him.‘Right,’ he said.‘It’s time for a change.’
‘Are you going to the Goat?’He had lowered his voice, so it seemed that mentioning it in public was dangerous.But he’d also said it as if it was obvious that Sefton would know what he was on about.
Sefton narrowed his eyes and made as if to get up, again doing the opposite of what the man wanted rather than reveal his own lack of knowledge.Again, it worked.The man leaped to his feet, obviously feeling that he’d offended Sefton in some way.‘Listen, I know about what they say is going to happen there this month.I’m a regular, just on the first level, not every Thursday, but at least on the first Thursday.People are saying that now that the Keel brothers have bought the place, it might get easier for me to, you know, get downstairs.That they’re going to change the rules.You must know something about that.’
The man was obviously assuming that Sefton’s skin colour
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