Hand in Glove

‘May Leonard fix mine, Uncle Hal?’ Moppett asked. ‘He knows my kind of wallop.’

Mr Period, overhearing her, momentarily closed his eyes and Mr Cartell saw him do it.

Miss Cartell shouted uneasily: ‘The things these girls say, nowadays! Honestly!’ and burst into her braying laugh. Nicola could see that she adored Moppett. Leonard adroitly mixed two treble Martinis.

Andrew had brought Nicola her tomato juice. He stayed beside her. They didn’t say very much but she found herself glad of his company.

Meanwhile, Mr Period, who it appeared, had recently had a birthday, was given a present by Lady Bantling. It was a large brass paper-weight in the form of a fish rampant. He seemed to Nicola to be disproportionately enchanted with this trophy and presently she discovered why.

‘Dearest Desirée,’ he exclaimed. ‘How wonderfully clever of you: my crest, you know! The form, the attitude, everything! Connie! Look! Hal, do look.’

The paper-weight was passed from hand to hand and Andrew was finally sent to put it on Mr Period’s desk.

When he returned Moppett bore down upon him. ‘Andrew!’ she said. ‘You must tell Leonard about painting. He knows quantities of potent dealers. Actually, he might be jolly useful to you. Come and talk to him.’

‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to say, Moppett.’

‘I’ll tell you. Hi, Leonard! We want to talk to you.’

Leonard advanced with drinks. ‘All right. All right,’ he said. ‘What about?’

‘Which train are you going back by?’ Andrew asked Nicola.

‘I don’t know.’

‘When do you stop typing?’

‘Four o’clock, I think.’

‘There’s a good train at twenty past. I’ll pick you up. May I?’

His mother had joined them. ‘We really ought to be going,’ she said, smiling amiably at Nicola. ‘Lunch is early today, Andrew, on account we’re having a grand party tonight. You’re staying for it, by the way.’

‘I don’t think I can.’

‘I’m sure you can if you set your mind to it. We need you badly. I’d have warned you, but we only decided last night. It’s an April Fool party: that makes the excuse. Bimbo’s scarcely left the telephone since dawn.’

‘We ought to go, darling,’ said Bimbo over her shoulder.

‘I know. Let’s. Goodbye.’ She held out her hand to Nicola. ‘Are you coming lots of times to type for P.P.?’

‘I think, fairly often.’

‘Make him bring you to Baynesholme. We’re off, Harold. Thank you for our nice drinks. Goodbye, P.P. Don’t forget you’re dining, will you?’

‘How could I?’

‘Not possibly.’

‘It was – I wondered, dearest Desirée, if you’d perhaps rather –? Still – I suppose –’

‘My poorest sweet, what are you talking about,’ said Lady Bantling and kissed him. She looked vaguely at Moppett and Leonard. ‘Goodbye. Come along, boys.’

Andrew muttered to Nicola: ‘I’ll ring you up about the train.’ He said goodbye, cordially to Mr Period and very coldly to his step-father.

Moppett said: ‘I had something fairly important to ask you, you gorgeous Guardee, you.’

‘How awful never to know what it was,’ Andrew replied and with Bimbo, followed his mother out of the room.

Watching Desirée go, Nicola thought: ‘Moppett would probably like to acquire that manner, but she never will. She hasn’t got the style.’

Mr Period in a fluster, extended his hands. ‘Desirée can’t know!’ he exclaimed. ‘Neither can he or Andrew! How extraordinary!’

‘Know what?’ asked Miss Cartell.

‘About Ormsbury. Her brother. It was in the paper.’

‘If Desirée is giving one of her parties,’ said Mr Cartell, ‘she is not likely to put it off for her brother’s demise. She hasn’t heard of him since he went out to the antipodes, where I understand he’s been drinking like a fish for the last twenty years.’

‘Really, Hal!’ Mr Period exclaimed.

Moppett and Leonard Leiss giggled and retired into a corner with their drinks.

Miss Cartell was launched on an account of some local activity, ‘– so I said to the rector: “We all know damn’ well what that means,” and he said like lightning: “We may know but we don’t let on.” He’s got quite a respectable sense of humour, that man.’

‘Pause for laugh,’ Moppett said very offensively.

Miss Cartell, who had in fact thrown back her head to laugh, blushed painfully and looked at her ward with such an air of baffled vulnerability, that Nicola, who had been thinking how patronizing and arrogant she was, felt sorry for her and furious with Moppett.

So, evidently, did Mr Period. ‘My dear Mary,’ he said. ‘That was not the prettiest of remarks.’

‘Quite so. Precisely,’ Mr Cartell agreed. ‘You should exercise more discipline, Connie.’

Leonard said: ‘The only way with Moppett is to beat her like a carpet.’

‘Care to try?’ she asked him.

Alfred announced luncheon.

It was the most uncomfortable meal Nicola had ever eaten. The entire party was at cross purposes. Everybody appeared to be up to something indefinable.

Miss Cartell had bought a new car. Leonard spoke of it with languid approval. Moppett said they had seen a Scorpion for sale in George Copper’s garage. Leonard spoke incomprehensibly of its merits.

‘Matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I’d quite like to buy it. Trade in my own heap with him, of course.’ He leant back in his chair and whistled quietly through his teeth.

‘Shall we look at it again?’ Moppett suggested, grandly.

‘No harm in looking, is there?’