‘Funnily enough I don’t mind. It makes me feel liberated. The Americans, they have sensible English names? If I have to call Weinberger, Texas … Mancini, Mississippi, I will smirk.’
‘Weinberger is Jasper. Mancini is Mario. O’Neil is Bob and Macdonald is Angus.’
‘Jasper, Mario, Bob and Angus … JMBA, are you coming out to play? Reminds me of a skipping song Nanny taught me.’
‘Have you been able to provide Marigold with something nice to wear?’
‘Even as we speak needles are at work. What agonies she must have suffered in that railway wagon. I think she will look quite stunning this evening. Harry had better watch out.’
‘Do you think he is smitten?’
‘He can’t stop blushing.’
‘I think she likes Harry. If she does maybe he can persuade her to persuade the President to come in on our side if war breaks out. We must not forget, Elizabeth, in the hurly-burly of events, the Americans are here to have their wallets emptied.’
29
In the butler’s pantry Sir Charles and Bert spoke in whispers.
‘Bert, after you’ve organised drinks and hors d’oeuvres on the terrace I want you to disappear. I’ll do the pouring.’
‘Are you sure, sir?’
‘Why, don’t you think I’m up to mixing a cocktail?’
‘It’s Lady Elizabeth, sir.’
‘What about her?’
‘This afternoon, sir, when she was playing mum in the study, I don’t think she liked it, you know, pouring tea for a servant. When she sees you serving, sir, when it’s my job … I’m not being eased out, sir, am I?’
‘Fret not, Bert. When you should be serving you will not be unemployed.’
‘Special mission is it, sir?’
‘As soon as O’Neil comes down for his orange juice or whatever it is teetotallers drink, go to his room.’
‘The golf bag, sir?’
‘Yes, give it the once over. I read in Time magazine that President Roosevelt makes his own cocktails. The Americans will think I’m copying their leader. It will make them think I’m the sort of chap who’d be happy to hand over India to Mr Gandhi. Full works on the terrace, mind you, Bert; red carpet, wheelbarrow seats, deck chairs and cushions on the steps.’
30
The terrace radiated heat. To carry out his duties as a ‘stand-in’ butler Sir Charles stood beside the make-shift bar – a pony trap filled with booze and red geraniums – as ready for action as a chap who’d never boiled an egg in his life could be. His confidence was high. He’d already mixed and poured, with suitable flourishes, Martinis for Macdonald, Mancini and Weinberger. No complaints, except he was finding it difficult to keep up with their rate of consumption. They were like the Rolls – to keep her going you had to keep filling her up.
It irritated him that, while he worked like a sapper, they were lounging in his deck chairs. He longed to join them. His legs were aching. Wonderful evening though.
He did not expect Elizabeth for another ten minutes. She was always late. More than likely she’d be fussing over Marigold. Harry was young and silly and had probably lost a shoe. But, where was O’Neil? On the other side of the Ha-Ha, sheep and cattle slept in the shade of an oak.
‘Is it always this hot in Northumberland, Charles?’ said Mancini.
‘Sadly, no.’
‘The peace before the storm?’ suggested Macdonald.
‘You refer of course to the European situation?’
‘I do.’
‘What will happen?’
‘If it comes to war?’
‘Yes.’
‘As an oil man,’ said Weinberger, ‘I’ll make a lot of money. I’ll be like your Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin. His family made a fortune out of the last war.’
‘Stanley did indeed do well financially,’ said Sir Charles. ‘It is to his credit that he returned much of his profit to His Majesty’s Exchequer.’
‘Stanley … you on intimate terms with Baldwin?’
‘A distant relative.’
‘I’d speculate that war with Germany will bankrupt England,’ said Macdonald.
‘We have an Empire.’
‘Will the Indians fight for you?’
‘Will America?’
‘I’m an anglophile … you know my thoughts on the matter. If Hitler is allowed carte blanche in Europe where will his ambition end? It is not in the long-term interests of the greatest democracy the world has ever known to sit back and let the Old World be taken over by a bunch of thugs.’
‘You will use your influence?’
‘Charles, with all my heart and soul I will put the case for intervention to my fellow citizens … but I am not the commander-in-chief.’
‘Speaking of whom,’ said Mancini, ‘here comes his surrogate, or so I’m led to believe.’ He stood up. ‘Marigold, great to see you.’
‘Mario, give me a hug … Angus … Jasper … it seems a lifetime since I heard American English.’
‘You’ve missed your wood-notes wild?’ said Macdonald.
‘After a month in Germany my head is spinning with, “Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!”.’
‘Gentlemen, my nephew, Harry,’ said Sir Charles. ‘What with all the hurly-burly of rescuing my man Mike from his motor-car accident I don’t think you have had the pleasure of being introduced.’
‘We’ve met his aeroplane,’ said Mancini. ‘Pleased to meet you, Harry.’
‘Hi! You the flier who parted my hair?’ said Weinberger. ‘Pleased to meet you, Harry – never met a flying barber before.’
‘You don’t need a barber, Jasper, you need a wig … pleased to meet you, Harry,’ said Macdonald.
‘Drink?’ said Sir Charles to Marigold and Harry. ‘May I recommend the house cocktail? It’s called The President.’
‘I’ll take Marigold’s,’ said Harry. ‘Marigold, your drink. Uncle tells me it’s President Roosevelt’s recipe.’
‘Watch him, Marigold, he’s a fly-boy,’ said Mancini.
‘Actually, I’m in the RAF. If war breaks out I’ll be flying Spits.’
‘What’s a “Spit”?’ said Macdonald.
‘It’s a fighter plane … a Spitfire.’
‘You ever get lost?’ said Weinberger.
‘When I’m flying? Not so far …in bad weather a chap follows his instruments.’
‘Marigold gets lost, don’t you, Marigold?’
‘How’d you get lost in little ol’ England, Marigold?’ said Mancini.
‘I didn’t.’
‘Sir Charles said you did, didn’t you, Charles?’
‘Ok, Ok, I got lost … I got on the wrong train, I’m embarrassed.’
‘You get lost in Germany?’ said Weinberger.
‘All the time, I’m a woman, what do you expect?’
‘You said that, not me.’
‘But that’s what you were thinking. Jasper, I know you too well.’
‘Sorry, Marigold, white flag.’ He waved a napkin.
‘If Marigold did get lost,’ said Mancini, ‘it’s because she’s used to having a chauffeur. When she wants to go some-place … she clicks her fingers.’
‘You saying I’m some kind of spoilt rich kid? I’ll have you know, Mario, I’ve been through hell in the last twenty-four hours. I’m lucky to be here.’
‘The car crash was that bad?’
‘It was the porter who put Marigold on the wrong train,’ said Harry. ‘Some of those fellows will tell a chap anything. They leave school unable to read and write. No one should have the vote unless they can read and write.’
‘You are not a socialist, Harry?’ said Mancini.
‘No, he is not,’ said Lady Elizabeth, joining the group, ‘and that is something I applaud. And for goodness sake, all of you, stop picking on my dear fri
end Marigold. You are worse than a pack of wolves … but nice American wolves who, if it comes to war, will bite the Germans, I hope. We don’t want another war… war makes men brutal. When Charles came home from the front in seventeen he’d forgotten that one used keys to open doors.’
‘My crime, I seem to remember, was putting my shoulder to a door and breaking it,’ said Sir Charles.
‘All you had to do was turn its handle.’
‘It was stiff.’
‘And you put a milk bottle on the table.’
‘Did I?’
‘Phyllis – she’s our cook – was shocked. Bert was still away in the trenches. Where is Bert? Why is he not serving?’
‘I told him to delegate.’
‘To whom?’
‘Me … if the President of the United States makes his guests cocktails, why can’t I?’
‘I don’t approve. Bert is paid to serve. The thought of running The Hall short-staffed because of another war keeps me awake at night. I hate Hitler. Marigold, I implore you, when you get home tell the President Lady Elizabeth begs him to be on our side. If it will help, tell him, we’ll give India to that fellow who goes around half naked.’
‘I say, Aunt Elizabeth,’ said Harry, ‘steady on.’
‘The views you have expressed, Lizzie,’ said Marigold, ‘are eminently sensible … if we lived in a rational world, but we don’t … sadly, Utopia does not exist.’
‘Stopping Utopia getting built,’ said Weinberger, ‘is an animal called “Democracy”. It ties the President’s hands.’
‘Surely Americans would never vote to let England be defeated by Germany?’ said Harry.
‘Some would.’
‘My American aunt has never been anything but generous to me. I thought all Americans loved England.’
‘Let me tell you something … you call us “Yanks”, we call you “Limeys”. In Washington they’ve got a new name for you … “Olivers”.’
‘Oh dear, you think we’ll always be asking for more?’ said Sir Charles.
‘Yes.’
‘You won’t pull our chestnuts out of the fire?’
‘If we do my hunch is Uncle Sam will charge you for every chestnut he saves. Your companies with real estate in the US will have to be sold. There’ll be fire sales. The money raised will pay for your war.’
‘Our war?’
‘Yes, your war, not America’s … Courtauld’s, Lever Brothers, Dunlop, all your companies with assets in the States will have a gun put to their heads, they’ll be sold cheap. I’ll be sniffing around. I’m a capitalist. I like making money. You know what? Making money makes me feel good.’
‘Charles, do not offer Jasper another drink, ’said Lady Elizabeth.
‘I’m telling you the way things are, not the way I’d like them to be.’
‘You will have to sell your gold reserves,’ said Mancini. ‘England will not be a good place to sell ice cream – no one will have money.’
‘What happens when we’ve sold everything?’ said Harry.
‘That’s when people like Jasper start eating the corpse.’
‘I don’t much like the sound of that. Why can’t you just write us a cheque and we’ll give you an IOU? After all, dash it, Mr Chamberlain and his ministers are gentlemen.’
‘I’m sure they are, Harry. The problem is that American businessmen are not gentlemen.’
‘Wolves, howling wolves,’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘In any coming conflict Mr Hare will be the businessman and Mr Tortoise the Good Samaritan.’
‘Well, that at least is a consolation,’ said Sir Charles. ‘We all know that the tortoise won in the end. Who’s for toppers?’
31
Everyone wanted a ‘topper’.
‘It’s like being in a green sauna,’ said Macdonald.
‘What’s a sauna?’ said Harry.
Macdonald explained.
‘Men and women together … no clothes on … naked … Finland,’ repeated Harry in a trance.
‘Hot as Texas, Northumberland,’ said Weinberger, ‘and no rattlesnakes to worry about … never told this to anyone before but I don’t like them.’
‘You mean you are scared of them?’ said Mancini.
‘Me? No … what the hell, yes, I’m scared of them.’
‘I don’t like midges,’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘If you walk down to the river you will see lots of rattlesnakes,’ said Sir Charles. ‘They wear short trousers and look like Boy Scouts.’
‘The Hitler Youth?’ said Marigold. ‘In my travels through Germany I have seen them commit crimes that I refuse to talk about on such a beautiful evening … be grateful you are not a Jew living in Nazi Germany. Mario, how is Maria? How many children do you have now?’
‘Seven.’
‘Last time we met you had six.’
‘Maria’s insatiable.’
‘Are there women like that?’ said Harry.
‘She wears me out.’
‘Try birth control,’ said Marigold.
‘I’m a Catholic.’
‘The Pope won’t know if you don’t tell him. I’d recommend the diaphragm and spermicidal gel method, better than the Pro-Race Cap.’
‘Call me old fashioned,’ said Lady Elizabeth, ‘but I don’t believe birth control should be discussed in mixed company. We all know about these things, so there’s no need to talk about them, is there?’
‘I don’t know about them,’ said Harry.
‘I should think you shouldn’t. Dear me, Harry, you have made your aunt blush, shame on you.’
‘I do believe O’Neil is at last coming to join us,’ said Sir Charles.
All heads turned to the figure, coming to join them on the patio.
‘He told me he needed to stretch his legs,’ said Mancini. ‘If he doesn’t keep in shape his golf will suffer, that’s what he told me. The guy’s a looney.’
‘On the Queen Mary he was never out of the gym,’ said Weinberger.
‘That’s because the guy in charge was Irish,’ said Mancini; ‘they used to talk to each other in Gaelic.’
‘Exercise can be a drug,’ said Macdonald, ‘once you start doing it, you gotta keep doing it. If you don’t you get withdrawal symptoms. You think you’re going to die.’
‘You are speaking from experience?’ said Sir Charles.
‘If you substitute “champagne” for “exercise” I will plead guilty to speaking from “experience”.’
‘Let me fill your glass.’
‘Thank you, Charles … your hospitality, the beautiful surroundings … everything is so green, is something I for one will never forget.’
‘But is it worth fighting for?’
‘Charles, take your foot off the pedal. I’m on your side but I’m not the President.’
32
‘Bob O’Neil,’ said Marigold. They shook hands. ‘You golfers and your need to keep fit.’
‘Who’s been talking about me?’
‘I have,’ said Mancini. ‘When you told me you liked to keep in shape for your golf I didn’t know I’d signed the Official Secrets Act.’
‘If you were a banker you’d be more discreet … and drink less. And,’ turning to Harry, ‘who are you? If you are who I think you are then I have something to say to you.’
‘He’s the low flyer who cut your hair,’ said Weinberger, ‘we call him, “Harry the Barber”. If it comes to war we’re going to need guys like him to give Hitler a short back and sides.’
‘Young man, you nearly killed me, have you nothing to say?’
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘The bar’s this way,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘Marigold, let us escort Mr O’Neil.’ The women linked him. ‘Bert, you are back on duty?’
‘Yes, my lady
.’
Sir Charles had noted his butler’s return shortly after O’Neil’s spectre-like emergence from the gloaming. What his ‘man’ had found out about O’Neil’s golf clubs would have to wait. He knew from years of experience at diplomatic functions that any knowing looks they exchanged would be spotted. For this reason he avoided looking at his butler; difficult though, like trying not to scratch an itch.
‘What are you going to have, Bob? I may call you Bob?’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘I’d recommend the Roosevelt Martini,’ said Marigold.
‘I don’t drink.’
‘You used to.’
‘Well, now I don’t.’
‘We think you should, don’t we, Lizzie?’
‘Tell you what,’ said Lady Elizabeth, ‘you have a Roosevelt and you can call me Lizzie and I’ll call you Bob.’
‘Only a boor would turn down an offer like that and you’re not a boor, are you, Bob? Bert, a Roosevelt for Mr O’Neil,’ said Marigold.
‘I’ve told you, I don’t drink.’
‘With your Ladyship’s permission,’ said Bert, ‘I think sir is a candidate for a “special”.’
With a certain amount of je ne sais quoi, to drum into his audience the ‘specialness’ of what he was about to serve, Bert produced from behind a red geranium, a bottle of Coca-Cola.
‘What’s that?’ said Lady Elizabeth.
‘An American drink, milady; specially imported by Mr Harry for the American guests.’
O’Neil scrutinised the butler. The tip he’d given him when he’d spotted the truncated Mashie-Niblick had been money well spent.
‘Thank you, Bert.’
‘Now you can call me, Lizzie,’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘And don’t go upsetting my nephew – he’s a fine pilot, knows exactly what he’s doing.’
‘Lizzie, show me the Ha-Ha,’ said Marigold.
33
‘What is it, Bert?’
‘A delicate matter, sir.’
‘Excuse me, gentlemen.’
‘A gentleman of the road is asking to see you, sir.’
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