*Track 6 (continued)

Joe’s communication duties allowed Stuart a moment to reflect, although consciously not dwell, on the latest numerical indicators. He supposed the ‘Challenge 15’ heading really didn’t make the numbering issue any more indecipherable than it had already become, but this month’s limit of 2,500 successful solutions sounded shockingly small and jolted him back into action. At least the reappearance of a crossword sounding slant was more reassuring, and his first instincts were already suggesting a possible clue structure. That was usually half the battle.

“That’s the thing with crypticity,” Stuart advised Joe, slightly suspicious he might have just made up a word, “you either see it straight away or you don’t, and I think this one’s jumping out at me.” Identifying the theme of a clue early on was like the difference between opening your front door with its key or, alternatively, using a sledgehammer. You might eventually gain entry with the latter, but it would take some time and the result wouldn’t look as pretty. Far better to waltz straight in.

Immediately, on his first read through, Stuart suspected he had spotted the key to ‘Challenge 15’ and, having mentally stress-tested his theory while Joe was completing his data transfer, was now confident it fitted the lock perfectly.

“Spit it out then,” demanded Joe, understandably impatient, he had a plane to catch, literally.

As requested, Stuart spilled out his thoughts in one long, continuous stream, “I think the first part of each line gives us a set of clues, with the answers all being cities. Once we’ve got the cities, we need to take their first letters, that’s the headliners, and rearrange them in the right order, according to their months, which are suggested by the last bit of each line. If I’m right, it will spell out some reptiles.”

“Shit Sherlock, sounds good to me,” exclaimed Joe excitedly. Happy to strain his metaphor further, he proactively took on the Watsonian support role by suggesting, “I’ll phone Mrs. Hudson, otherwise known as Mum, with your deductions, see if she’s got any answers. You start sleuthing.”

Already on with the case, Stuart had written ‘Line 5 = Halifax = February’ on his pad, his instant certainty of this solution having formed the backbone of his cryptic key. Working in the town for years deserved some payback, he had thought, local knowledge allowing him to match the Mortgage company’s strapline, “a little extra,” with an awareness Halifax (although pedantically a town rather than a city) was also home to both the historic Piece Hall and the iconic, if now departed, Macintosh’s Toffee factory. Valentines, at the clue’s end, simply had to imply February.

Halifax wasn’t the only geographical fluke Stuart had benefitted from either. He added ‘Line 10 = Sheffield = October’ to his list, quickly followed by ‘Line 3 = Edinburgh = May (presuming it’s in the UK).

There had to be few people, certainly amongst the ‘Challengers’, who had spent as much time in Sheffield’s sadly lost, much lamented, Limit Club as Stuart and Charlie. They had virtually been regulars. Adding this to the Crucible Theatre (still there) and Sheffield’s flatware/cutlery industry (which had undoubtedly failed) gave three big ticks for his solution, and Halloween surely meant October.

It had been the Fringe reference that suggested Edinburgh but combining this with the city’s extinct volcano (Arthur’s Seat) and, more fortuitously, the pilgrimage Stuart had made, on a previous visit, to sample a pint in Rebus’ favourite non-fictional pub, The Oxford Bar, sealed the deal. Assuming a British bias, celebrating Labour had to indicate May. Three down, seven to go, and only twelve minutes in.

“Mrs. Hudson suggests she sorts the months, while we concentrate on the cities,” said Joe, having completed his call home. Once Stuart had walked him through his three answers, and the thought processes behind them, Joe suggested a further, sensible division of their labours, “you’re best at this. Just shout out your questions and I’ll answer them,” said while winking and tapping his phone. They quickly got into the swing of this process, operating it like a well-oiled production line:

~

“Where was Thomas a Beckett murdered?” asked Stuart.

“In Canterbury Cathedral,” replied a Google guided Joe.

“And is there a Buttermarket in the city?”

Maps confirmed there was.

“OK, number two’s Canterbury then.”

“Take your word for it, explanations later. Next question?”

~

“Where’s the River Lune?”

“It flows through Cumbria and Lancashire.”

“Does it go through Lancaster?”

“Yep.”

“And who’s the Duke of Lancaster?”

“Well, it’s a bit strange, but it says here it’s The Queen.”

“OK, that’s number six sorted.”

~

“Is Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam?”

“It is,” for once an unaided answer. Stuart had forgotten Joe had been there recently with his mates.

“And, odd as it might sound, did Van Gogh ever do a potato painting?”

“There’s one called ‘The Potato Eaters’, it’s in his gallery in Amsterdam.”

“You can tick off number one then. Don’t know why we’ve suddenly gone Dutch though.”

~

A simultaneous ping on both their phones interrupted this productive flow, their initial shared annoyance tempered as they realised it was Anne, messaging them both on the new ‘Challenge 69’ WhatsApp group Joe had set up. It was a comprehensive, focused message that fully delivered on her side of the bargain. With no filler, no emojis, it simply read:

“1 Mar/St David’s Day. 2 Jan/Sales. 3 May/Labour Day. 4 Jul/Dog Days begin. 5 Feb/Valentines. 6 Jun/Summer Solstice. 7 Apr/Fools Day. 8 Sep/Autumn starts. 9 Aug/Lammas. 10 Oct/Halloween. Job done. How about you?”

Joe quickly replied, “Thx, 4 to go,” before getting back in his solutioning saddle, “next one?”

~

“Is there a Lincoln College in Oxford?”

“There is.”

“How close is it to Jesus and Exeter Colleges?”

“On Google Maps looks like they’re all right next to each other.”

“Brilliant. That’s number nine in the bag.”

~

Stuart was completely stumped on lines four and eight. He had his suspicions over number seven, feeling it might have a musical theme, but his gut feel, which he now shared with Joe, was that seven successful city solutions, if their first letters were reordered according to Anne’s monthly sequence, may already prove enough. He passed over his pad, allowing Joe to work through the rearrangement mechanics, and sat back smugly as the letters started to appear on the page, looking like some weird game of hangman:

C H A _ E L _O _ S

As Joe got towards the end, Stuart already knew his early instincts had, thankfully, been correct. They had their solution. With one final prompt though he hoped he might help Joe get over the line first. His son’s help had again proven invaluable, so allowing Joe to be the one to finally ‘solve’ the clue and submit their ‘Challenge 15’ entry felt a fitting final farewell gift.

“So, I think seven’s Manchester. It’s to do with Dylan and the Sex Pistols. According to Mum’s order that would give us an M after the A.” As expected, this helped enough for Joe to fatally breach ‘Challenge 15’s already crumbling defences.

“Must be chameleons then, they’re reptiles,” shouted Joe, loud enough for everyone in Wetherspoons to hear.

“That’s right,” Stuart confirmed, “and you could also argue they’re hidden reptiles. We’re sorted. Type it in.”

Joe submitted their answer and neither of them were surprised by the Congratulations message received by return. Never one to let a good wind-up opportunity pass though, Joe found a way to turn victory into complaint, “told you we didn’t need to get up at that time, what’re we gonna do now? It’s too early for a beer.”

One hour, and one slightly embarrassed man-hug (from Stuart), later, Joe skipped off through security, setting out on his transatlantic journey back to Byrne’s ‘Big Country’ without a backwards glance. Not so easily fooled however, having been through this ritual before, Stuart waited. Seconds later Joe reappeared dramatically, stage left, much like Eric Morecambe emerging again from behind his curtain, and mugged one final, deliberately corny grin, his cheeky thirteen-year-old persona making a fleeting return from under its late-teen veneer of cool. An act designed, Stuart understood, to reassure Dad that, “everything is fine.”

“Who’s going to help us with February’s challenge?” Stuart mused, as he walked back to the car, knowing the pretence at practicality in his question was really just there to mask a deeper sense of void.

###

(‘Track 7’ will follow on 25th November at 9am. In the meantime, it’s always good to get reader feedback, so please add a comment below with any thoughts on ‘Track 6’.)