details but he lapsed into gormless truculence and asked when I was going to rescue his bone.
Needless to say, the lid slipped off the bin with the ease of an oiled haddock and Bouncer was suitably impressed. I have a knack with such things, learnt long ago at the paws of my redoubtable grandfather, Maltravers. Under his tuition I was able to assimilate a wealth of skills necessary to the confounding of human guile … And from the same source came my refusal to kowtow to the obstinacy of dogs. Thus if Bouncer imagined I would be fobbed off by vague evasions regarding F.O.’s mission to London, he could think again! Such is the bedlam in this household that it doesn’t do to permit lapses in intelligence: at all costs a cat must keep ahead of the chaos!
16
The Vicar’s Version
The flat was in one of those Victorian red-brick mansion blocks favoured by the fashionable and well heeled; and as we went up the solid steps I couldn’t help thinking that Lavinia must have done pretty well out of the sale of the French property – and indeed any other remunerations accruing from her husband’s murder.
We took the lift to the third floor, and guided by a buzz of voices and a slightly open door, entered the vestibule of her new abode. The room beyond was large, beautifully furnished – and packed. We hovered on the threshold, bemused by the throng but eager to forage. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Hesketh, still attached to Gladys and presumably still making dutiful small talk. In his hand he held a glass of water (conceivably gin, though it seemed unlikely). Clinker, too, had probably seen them, for with a brisk clearing of throat he began to push his way in the opposite direction, muttering something about looking for his hostess. He wasn’t of course; just seeking the nearest source of food.
Ingaza became similarly engaged, but in his case the focus was a distant tray of champagne – although I wasn’t sure whether the attraction was the drink or its purveyor, a handsome youth whose white flunky’s jacket conferred a passing air of distinction.
And then just as I was thinking that I too might go in quest of libations, I noticed the new tenant standing in a far corner talking animatedly among a group of her guests. I had not seen Lavinia since taking tea at Brown’s, and her now total transformation from frump to moderate siren was striking. I had forgotten the sartorial details in Prim-rose’s letter, but the cobalt-blue sheath-dress, elaborately coiffed hair and glittering bangles jogged my memory. I also recalled my sister’s description of the newly acquired lap-dog Attlee, and I scanned the room, curious to spy the little creature, but he had obviously elected to remain aloofly out of sight. (Nevertheless, mindful of the embarrassing encounter with Bouncer at an earlier and fateful soirée, I was careful where I put my feet. * )
‘I say, Oughterard,’ said a voice behind me, ‘awfully good of you to come. A most pleasant surprise!’ I turned round and was met with the benign features of Rupert Turnbull. Slightly embarrassed, I started to explain that I had been ‘swept up’ by the bishop at the concert and was on the point of leaving for Molehill.
‘Oh no, don’t do that,’ he beamed, ‘all the more the merrier. You must stay, Lavinia will be delighted that you are here!’ And so saying, he thrust a drink into my hand and propelled me towards where she was standing.
She greeted me warmly and I complimented her on the decor of the new flat. She looked almost radiant, and divested of the late Mr Birtle-Figgins was clearly in her element.
We chatted for a while, and she enthused about her cousin’s language schools, saying she was helping to back a fresh project in Oxford. ‘Of course they’ve got masses of such places there already, but Rupert’s will be ultra up to date with all the very latest equipment, and catering only for the high-flying specialists …
Needless to say, the lid slipped off the bin with the ease of an oiled haddock and Bouncer was suitably impressed. I have a knack with such things, learnt long ago at the paws of my redoubtable grandfather, Maltravers. Under his tuition I was able to assimilate a wealth of skills necessary to the confounding of human guile … And from the same source came my refusal to kowtow to the obstinacy of dogs. Thus if Bouncer imagined I would be fobbed off by vague evasions regarding F.O.’s mission to London, he could think again! Such is the bedlam in this household that it doesn’t do to permit lapses in intelligence: at all costs a cat must keep ahead of the chaos!
16
The Vicar’s Version
The flat was in one of those Victorian red-brick mansion blocks favoured by the fashionable and well heeled; and as we went up the solid steps I couldn’t help thinking that Lavinia must have done pretty well out of the sale of the French property – and indeed any other remunerations accruing from her husband’s murder.
We took the lift to the third floor, and guided by a buzz of voices and a slightly open door, entered the vestibule of her new abode. The room beyond was large, beautifully furnished – and packed. We hovered on the threshold, bemused by the throng but eager to forage. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Hesketh, still attached to Gladys and presumably still making dutiful small talk. In his hand he held a glass of water (conceivably gin, though it seemed unlikely). Clinker, too, had probably seen them, for with a brisk clearing of throat he began to push his way in the opposite direction, muttering something about looking for his hostess. He wasn’t of course; just seeking the nearest source of food.
Ingaza became similarly engaged, but in his case the focus was a distant tray of champagne – although I wasn’t sure whether the attraction was the drink or its purveyor, a handsome youth whose white flunky’s jacket conferred a passing air of distinction.
And then just as I was thinking that I too might go in quest of libations, I noticed the new tenant standing in a far corner talking animatedly among a group of her guests. I had not seen Lavinia since taking tea at Brown’s, and her now total transformation from frump to moderate siren was striking. I had forgotten the sartorial details in Prim-rose’s letter, but the cobalt-blue sheath-dress, elaborately coiffed hair and glittering bangles jogged my memory. I also recalled my sister’s description of the newly acquired lap-dog Attlee, and I scanned the room, curious to spy the little creature, but he had obviously elected to remain aloofly out of sight. (Nevertheless, mindful of the embarrassing encounter with Bouncer at an earlier and fateful soirée, I was careful where I put my feet. * )
‘I say, Oughterard,’ said a voice behind me, ‘awfully good of you to come. A most pleasant surprise!’ I turned round and was met with the benign features of Rupert Turnbull. Slightly embarrassed, I started to explain that I had been ‘swept up’ by the bishop at the concert and was on the point of leaving for Molehill.
‘Oh no, don’t do that,’ he beamed, ‘all the more the merrier. You must stay, Lavinia will be delighted that you are here!’ And so saying, he thrust a drink into my hand and propelled me towards where she was standing.
She greeted me warmly and I complimented her on the decor of the new flat. She looked almost radiant, and divested of the late Mr Birtle-Figgins was clearly in her element.
We chatted for a while, and she enthused about her cousin’s language schools, saying she was helping to back a fresh project in Oxford. ‘Of course they’ve got masses of such places there already, but Rupert’s will be ultra up to date with all the very latest equipment, and catering only for the high-flying specialists …