Her behaviour appealed to everything in this deplorable buccaneer of the nineties which made his sister Constance, his sister Julia, his sister Dora, and all his other sisters wince when they saw him and purse their lips when his name was mentioned, and he was still aglow with admiration, proud that such a girl should have honoured him with her friendship, when he bumped into something solid, and saw that it was the dream man in person.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Jerry.
‘Not at all,’ said Gally courteously. ‘A pleasure.’
Seeing the object of Penny’s affections at close range, he found himself favourably impressed. For an author Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked. His face, while never likely to launch a thousand ships, was not at all a bad sort of face, and Gally could readily picture it casting a spell in a dim light on a boat deck. Looking at him, he found it easy to understand why Penny should have described him as a baa-lamb. From a cursory inspection he seemed well entitled to membership in that limited class.
Jerry, meanwhile, drinking Gally in, had discovered that this was no stranger he had rammed.
‘Why, hullo, Mr Threepwood,’ he said. ‘You won’t remember me, but we’ve met before. I was introduced to you once by Admiral Biffen.’
Gally retained no recollection of this previous encounter, but the mention of that honoured name stirred him like a bugle.
‘You know Fruity Biffen?’
‘I’ve known him all my life. He’s a great friend of an uncle of mine. Major Basham.’
Any doubts Gally might have entertained as to the suitability of this young man as a husband for a girl on whom he looked as a daughter were dispelled. The name of Major Basham was equally as honoured as that of Fruity Biffen.
‘You mean Plug Basham is your uncle? God bless my soul, as my brother Clarence would say. One of my oldest friends.’
‘Yes, I’ve often heard him speak of you.’
‘We’ve always been like Damon and what’s-his-name. I once put a pig in his bedroom.’
‘Really? What made you do that?’
‘Oh, it struck me as a good idea. It was the night of the Bachelors’ Ball at Hammer’s Easton. Old Wivenhoe’s pig. Puffy Benger and I borrowed it and put it in Plug’s room. I had to leave early next morning, so never learned what happened when he met it. No doubt they got together across a round table and threshed things out. Plug Basham, by Jove! I once saw Plug throw a side of beef at a fellow in Romano’s. Laid him out cold, and all the undertakers present making bids for the body. How is he these days?’
‘Going as strong as ever.’
‘Fruity and I were talking about him only a week ago. Fruity was down here. Not staying at the castle – he can’t stand my sister Constance, and I don’t blame him. I got him to take a little house along the Shrewsbury road not far from here because I met him in London and he seemed a bit run down and I thought a breath of country air would do him good. But he couldn’t stick it out. Too much noise. He said there was a bunch of assorted bugs and insects in his front garden which seemed to be seeing the new year in all night, and he went back to Piccadilly, where he said a man could get a bit of peace. I miss him. Did he ever tell about the time when he and I –’
Gally paused. The story he had been about to relate was a good one, but he was a kindly man and realized that this was no time for stories, however entertaining.
‘But I mustn’t keep you here talking. You’ll be wanting to find Penny. Oh, I know all about you and Penny,’ said Gally, noticing that his young friend had leaped skywards as if a red-hot iron had been applied to the seat of his trousers. ‘She confided in me.’
Jerry became calmer. He was still not sure how he liked the idea of anyone sharing his sacred secret, but this old boy was so obviously friendly that perhaps in his case one could stretch a point.
‘I was just thinking, when you came along,’ said Gally, ‘what a really exceptional girl she must be to have sneaked you in here as Clarence’s secretary without my sister Constance entertaining a single suspicion. Good brains there. How the dickens did she work it?’
‘But Penny doesn’t know I’m here.’
‘What! Then how –?’
‘It was a girl called Gloria Salt who got me the job.’
‘Gloria Salt? Oh yes, I remember. She’s coming here.’
‘She’s here already. She drove me down in her car. She’s an old friend of mine.’ Jerry hesitated. Then he decided to keep nothing back. ‘She thought that if I became Lord Emsworth’s secretary, I might … Did Penny ever say anything to you about a scheme I had for –’
‘She told me all. In fact, she tried to touch me for that two thousand.’
‘Oh, good Lord, she shouldn’t have done that.’
‘Quite all right. I enjoyed the novel experience of having someone suppose that I had two thousand pounds. Yes, I know all about that health cure place idea of yours, and I think it’s a good one. The problem, as always, is how to get the cash. How are you coming along with regard to that? Any likely prospects in view?’
‘I was just going to tell you. Gloria thought –’
‘Because if you have nobody on your list who looks like a snip, you could do far worse than consider my brother Clarence.’
‘Why, that’s just what Gloria –’
‘My brother Clarence,’ proceeded Gally, ‘is a peculiar chap. He eats, sleeps, and dreams pig, and he was telling us just now how extraordinarily pig-minded you were. You positively stunned him with your fund of information on the subject.’
‘Yes, you see I –’
‘And the thought that crossed my mind was that, if you played your cards right, you might quite easily put yourself in a position where you could go to him, when acquaintance had ripened into friendship, and sting him for the sum you need. Yes, I know,’ said Gally catching his audience’s eye and observing that it was bulging. ‘It seems to you a bizarre idea. Far-fetched. Potty. The picture you are forming in your mind of me is that of a man talking through the back of his neck. But I know Clarence. Not an easy partner in normal circumstances, he would, I am convinced, lend a ready ear to the blandishments of a fellow pig-lover. You wait and see if I’m not right.’
Jerry was looking like the Soul’s Awakening. He stammered with emotion.
‘What an amazing coincidence!’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what Gloria told me.’
‘You mean she suggested touching Clarence?’
‘That’s why she wanted me to come here as his secretary.’
‘So that you could join him in slapping his pig on the backside and let your light so shine that eventually you would be in a position to put the bite on him?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Sounds an intelligent girl.’
‘Oh, she is. Most intelligent. She –’
Jerry broke off. Gally, eyeing him, saw that his face had lighted up as if someone had pressed a switch. Turning, for what had caused this ecstasy was apparently something that was happening behind him, he perceived Penny approaching.
‘Ah!’ he said, understanding.
The only flaw in what should have been a moment of unalloyed joy was that Penny was not alone. Walking at her side was a tall, superbly built young man whose dark, Byronic beauty made him look like something that had eluded the vigilance of the front office and escaped from the Metro-Goldwyn lot. Having met him at meals for more than two weeks, Gally had no difficulty in identifying him as Orlo, Lord Vosper.
Penny seemed listless. Her eyes, as she walked, were on the ground. It may have been merely maiden meditation, but it looked to Gally more like the pip, and he wondered what was amiss. He whooped welcomingly, and she looked up. Having done so, she stood staring, the colour draining from her face. She reminded Gally of a girl named Mabel something who, walking with him at a Buckingham Palace garden party in
the year 1906, had suddenly become aware that there was a beetle down her back.
‘Ah, Penny,’ he said, subtle as always, ‘I want you to meet Clarence’s new secretary. His name is – What did you say your name was?’
‘Vail,’ said Jerry huskily.
‘Vail,’ said Gally. ‘Nice chap. Draw him out on the subject of pigs. Mr Vail, Lord Vosper.’
Lord Vosper, like Penny, seemed not to be in the highest spirits. He nodded dully at Jerry.
‘Oh, we know each other. School together. Hullo, Jerry.’
‘Hullo, Wasp. You here?’
‘That’s right. You here, too?’
‘Yes.’
‘I thought so,’ said Lord Vosper, and returned to his meditations.
He was still occupied with them, and the silence which had fallen was still unbroken, when Sebastian Beach appeared, heading in their direction.
‘Pardon me, m’lord,’ said Beach. ‘A Mr Wapshott is on the telephone, desirous of speaking to you. He implied that the matter was of importance –’
Lord Vosper came out of his trance.
‘Wapshott?’
‘Yes, m’lord. He stated that he represented the firm of Wapshott, Wapshott, Wapshott, and Wapshott.’
‘Reminds me,’ said Gally, who never let an opportunity like this pass, ‘of the story of the chap in New York who rang up the legal firm of Shapiro, Shapiro, Shapiro, and Shapiro. “Hello,” he says, “can I speak to Mr Shapiro?” “Mr Shapiro is in court.” “Then I’ll talk to Mr Shapiro.” “Mr Shapiro is in conference with an important client.” “Then connect me with Mr Shapiro.” “I’m sorry, but Mr Shapiro has taken the day off to play golf.” “Oh, all right, then I’ll talk to Mr Shapiro.” “Speaking.” Who is this Wapshott?’
‘My income tax chap,’ said Lord Vosper. ‘Fellow who looks after my income tax,’ he added, clarifying the situation still further. ‘Better go and see what he wants, I suppose.’
He walked away, followed by Beach, and Gally stared after them. It seemed to him that Beach was looking careworn, and it made him uneasy. These were the times that tried men’s souls, and at such times one does not like to see a careworn butler, if that butler is a butler with whom one is sitting in on a campaign that calls for alertness and efficiency on the part of all concerned.
Turning, he saw that Penny was still gazing at Jerry in that odd, dumb way. He came to himself with a start.
‘Good Lord, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m in the way. I see just how it is, Penny. With every fibre of your being you yearn to do a swan dive into this bimbo’s arms, but modesty forbids. “How,” you are saying, “can I fulfil and express myself with this old image goggling at me through his eyeglass as if he were sitting in the front row at the circus with his all-day sucker and his bag of peanuts?” It’s all right. I’ll look the other way.’
There is a type of short, sharp, bitter laugh which is like a yelp of agony and does no good to man or beast. Lady Constance sometimes employed it when she heard someone say what a charming man her brother Galahad was. It was a laugh of this kind that now proceeded from Penny Donaldson, and for the first time there began to steal over Jerry a suspicion that he had been mistaken in supposing this the maddest merriest day of all the glad new year and the world in which he moved the best of all possible worlds.
‘Please don’t bother, Gally,’ she said. ‘I have not the slightest wish to dive into Mr Vail’s arms. I wonder if you would care to hear a little story?’
‘Story? Of course, of course. Go ahead. But what’s all this “Mr Vail” stuff?’
‘You remember me telling you that I was to have had dinner last night with Mr Vail?’
‘Certainly. But –’
Penny went on, still speaking in a strange metallic voice that reminded Jerry of Gloria Salt fulfilling and expressing herself on the subject of Lord Vosper.
‘We had arranged to meet at the Savoy at eight. I had a fitting in the afternoon, and when I came home at about six I found a telephone message waiting for me. It said that Mr Vail regretted that he would be unable to dine tonight as an important business matter had come up. I was naturally disappointed –’
She choked, and a tear stole down her cheek. Jerry, seeing it, writhed with remorse. He realized how a good-hearted executioner at an Oriental court must feel after strangling an odalisque with a bowstring.
‘But, Penny –’
‘Please!’ She gave him a fleeting look, the sort of look a good woman gives a caterpillar on finding it in her salad, and turned back to Gally. ‘I was naturally disappointed, of course, because I had been looking forward very much to seeing him, but I quite understood that these things happen –’
Gally nodded.
‘Sent to try us.’
‘I quite understood that these things happen –’
‘Probably meant to make us more spiritual.’
‘I say I quite understood that these things happen,’ proceeded Penny, raising her voice and giving Gally a look similar in quality to the one she had just given Jerry, ‘and I said to myself that naturally, if Mr Vail had important business, he couldn’t be expected to neglect it just for me.’
‘But, Penny –’
‘So, when Lord Vosper, who was there, suggested that he should give me dinner, I thought it would be a nice way of passing the evening. Lord Vosper, it seems, is very fond of a restaurant called Mario’s. He took me there.’
She paused again, this time because Jerry, his eyes leaping from their sockets, had uttered a sound not unlike the howl of a trapped timber wolf.
‘We didn’t dress,’ she resumed, ‘so they put us up in the balcony. Do you know Mario’s, Gally?’
‘Since my time.’
‘It’s quite nice up in the balcony there. You get a good view of the main floor. And one of the first things I saw on that main floor was Mr Vail attending to his important business. It consisted of dining with a girl who looked like a snake with hips and from time to time having his face patted by her.’
Gally’s monocle came swinging round at Jerry like the eye of a fire-breathing dragon. His face was hard and set.
‘You abysmal young wart-hog!’
‘Oh, you mustn’t say that, Gally,’ said Penny, gently rebuking. ‘I’m sure Mr Vail has a perfectly satisfactory explanation. Probably the girl was the editor of some magazine, discussing a series of stories with him. I believe editors always pat contributor’s faces. It creates a friendly atmosphere.’
It cost Jerry an effort to raise his chin and square his shoulders, but he did it. The consciousness of being a good man unjustly accused always helps to stiffen the spinal vertebrae.
‘I can explain everything.’
‘Why is it,’ inquired Penny – she seemed to be addressing a passing butterfly, ‘that men always say that?’
‘I say it,’ said Jerry stoutly, ‘because it’s true. The girl you saw me dining with was Gloria Salt.’
‘Pretty name. A friend of yours?’
‘A very dear friend of mine.’
‘I thought you seemed on good terms.’
‘She patted my face twice.’
‘I should have said oftener. Of course, I hadn’t a score card with me.’
‘Twice,’ repeated Jerry firmly. ‘And I’ll tell you why. Let us take these pats in their order. Pat One was a congratulatory pat when I told her how much I loved you. Pat Two occurred when I was thanking her for having suggested a way by which I might be able to raise that two thousand pounds which I need in order to marry you. So much for your face patting! And if,’ Jerry went on, addressing the Hon. Galahad, ‘you call me an abysmal young wart-hog again, I shall forget the respect due to your grey hairs and haul off and let you have one right on the maxillary bone. Abysmal young wart-hog, indeed! My motives were pure to the last drop. Gloria Salt rang me up in the afternoon to say she wanted me to give her dinner, promising over the meal to spill this scheme of hers for connecting with the cash, because it was too long, she said, to
tell me on the phone. Reluctantly, for it made me feel as if my soul were being passed through a wringer, I broke our date. I dined with her at Mario’s. She told me her scheme. I thanked her brokenly, and she patted my face. I may mention that when she patted it, it was as though a kindly sister had patted the face of a blameless brother. So I should be much obliged if you would stop looking at me as if you had caught me stealing pennies from a blind man.’
Penny had already done so. Her lips parted, and she was gazing at him, wide-eyed. There was no suggestion in her expression that she had found him enriching himself at the expense of the blind.
‘Furthermore,’ said Jerry, now thundering, ‘if additional proof is required to drive into your nut the fact that the last thing in the minds of either of us was anything in the nature of funny business, I may mention that Miss Salt – besides being, like myself, pure to the last drop, if not further – is engaged to be married. She is shortly to become the bride of a certain Sir Gregory Parsloe, who, I believe, resides in this vicinity.’
Gally’s monocle flew from his eye.
‘Parsloe!’
‘Parsloe.’
Gally recovered his monocle. But as he replaced it, his hand was trembling. He was a man who prided himself on his British fortitude. Come the three corners of the world in arms and we shall shock them, he had said in effect to Beach and Penny when speaking of the Binstead-Simmons threat, and he had been quite prepared to cope gallantly with a pig girl in the Parsloe pay and a Parsloe minion who went about buying bottles of anti-fat, the large economy size. But add to that pig girl and that minion a Parsloe fiancée, and it seemed to him that things were becoming too hot. No wonder, he felt, that Beach just now had looked careworn. The faithful fellow, possibly listening at some key-hole whilst this Salt girl traded confidences with Lady Constance, must just have had the bad news.
Pigs Have Wings Page 9