Tim had been in the car for about twenty minutes when it pulled into a driveway and stopped at the gate. Mr Brown leaned out of his window and pressed a card against a black box by the fence. The gates opened silently and they drove down a long shingle drive towards a large old brick house.
“Gee, this place is huge. It must be worth a fortune,” said Tim.
Mr Brown smiled.
“Yes, the owner is the richest man in the country and certainly one of the wealthier ones globally.”
“Really! He must have a heap of big houses like this.”
“No, only this one.”
“Wow. If I had that much cash I’d have houses and cars all over the place and a private jet to get me there.”
“I’m sure you would, however this owner prefers to keep a low profile.”
“Why?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
They were met by a man as they got out of the Jaguar.
“Good afternoon, Dr Stott. How is he today?” asked Mr Brown.
“Oh, good afternoon, AJ. Not good news I’m afraid. I think his time is near. He’s driven himself hard and abused his body in doing so,” the doctor replied.
“Well, he is a very old man now,” Mr Brown said with a hint of sadness.
The doctor turned and looked at Tim.
“This must be the young man he’s been waiting so long to see. I suspect that our friend upstairs will be very pleased to see you. Goodbye gentlemen. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
As they went into the house Tim tried hard to make sense of the conversation.
“I take it there’s some old giffer upstairs who is on death’s door and wants to see me before he pops off,” he asked Mr Brown.
“Not quite how I would put it, but an accurate summary nevertheless.”
“So who is the old bloke who wants to see me?”
“As I said, you’ll have to wait and find out. But I will safely say that you’ll know him when you see him.”
“I don’t know any ‘very old’ men,” Tim thought to himself.
Tim had one more question.
“Speaking of names, the doctor called you AJ. What does that stand for?”
Mr Brown hesitated for a moment, as if he was considering how to answer the question.
“If you must know, it’s from my grandfather, Archibald, or Archie as he was known. When I was young, everybody called me Archie, or Junior. I hated both, so now I’m just AJ.”
“Fair enough, I suppose.” said Tim.
The interior of the house looked like it was out of an old movie. The walls were wood-paneled with expensive looking paintings accompanied by impressive antique furniture.
They climbed a huge wooden staircase which led to an upstairs landing. The house was almost completely silent. Tim couldn’t hear a sound other than the steady tick-tock of a grandfather clock at the other end of the landing. Mr Brown pointed to some French doors.
“We’re going to the sunroom over there.”
As they approached Tim could see an old man sitting in a wicker chair with his back to them, dressed in a light-colored suit and wearing a hat, as older men do. He appeared to be asleep, eyes closed, gently breathing with a rug over his lap.
Mr Brown walked quietly up to the old man and spoke gently into his ear.
“Uncle, it’s AJ. Young Tim is here to see you.”
The old man opened his eyes.
“Is that you AJ? Pass me my glasses will you.”
Having taken a minute to adjust his glasses, the old man turned to Tim and smiled with obvious delight.
“Hello Tim. I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s been such a long time since we last spoke. I thought I might never get to speak to you again.”
Tim was more than a little disturbed. It was the same old man who had spoken to Andy at the museum!
“What do you mean by ‘speak to me again’?” Tim asked. “We’ve never met. And besides, I only came because Mr Brown here is my teacher and I trust him.”
The old man chuckled and then looked over to Mr Brown, who was pouring tea.
“You were right to trust him. He’s my nephew and my right-hand man. I suppose you want to know why an old codger like me wants to talk to you.”
He picked up a cup and saucer and took a sip of tea. Tim noticed the old man’s hand shaking slightly as he did so.
“Ahh, lovely. Want one?” he asked Tim.
“No thanks, I’m not a tea drinker.”
The old man put his tea down and reached over the side of his chair, still talking to Tim as he did so.
“Yes, I couldn’t remember if you like hot drinks so I got a couple of bottles of Coke. I was a bit of a cola addict myself when I was younger.”
He swung back round with difficulty towards Tim and held out two bottles for him. Tim stood there, completely at a loss.
“Well, don’t just stand there like a stunned mullet. Sit down and have a drink. We’ve got a lot to talk about and I haven’t got much time left to me.”
Tim looked at the old fellow. His voice was familiar, as was his demeanor.
“Who are you?”
The old man took his glasses off and leaned towards Tim, holding a steady gaze.
“Oh I think you’ve already figured that out. Surely I haven’t changed that much?”