Dennis Wheatley - Black August

'How depressing. What were the Bronsons like?'

'Quite too terrible. Of course it's a bit of luck for Kenyon that he was at Magdalen with the son. Old Sir George is practically fighting the election for him, but the old woman was appalling. It is one of those ghastly places they keep up the prehistoric customs of the men sitting over their port, and as Juliana Augusta went up to bed early the first night the Bronson cornered me in the drawing room. She third degreed me about Juliana Augusta's little whims and she must have said “the dear Duchess” forty times in the hour. I think she thought that to say “Your Mother” would have been lese majeste.'

Fiona smiled. 'And what about the young man?'

'Oh, he was quite a nice little cad played a decent game of golf and made sheep's eyes at me of course, but the poor lamb was dragged off to do this filthy electioneering most of the time Hell's bells that's done it.' Veronica grabbed frantically at the end of her cigarette which had fallen from the holder into her lap. When she had succeeded in rescuing the glowing stub she surveyed her light summer frock angrily. Two large yellow burns showed right in the middle of it.

'Ruined, my dear ruined!' she exclaimed wildly in her rather high pitched voice. 'How absolutely too maddening and the rag's not even paid for!'

'Poor darling,' Fiona consoled her, 'but you can have it dyed, I've got quite used to that sort of thing since I married Peter.'

'I know, sweet you've been an absolute angel, but I just can't wear dyed clothes.'

'I do wish you'd be sensible. How you can keep on running up these awful bills, I can't think.'

'Madness, isn't it. Maria threatened to writ me last week!'

'Did she? My dear, if I were in your shoes I shouldn't be able to sleep a wink.'

'I don't, darling, at times I squirrel terrifically, but let's face it if you're not a beauty, clothes do count.'

'What nonsense you're lovely!'

Veronica tapped her high, arched nose. 'Good old mountain goat, lovie.'

'How absurd who wants stupid doll like prettiness anyhow. You've got the most shapely head I've ever seen, a figure like a sylph and the loveliest pair of legs in London. Besides you're the most amusing person in the word to talk to and the men adore that!'

'Oh, I can get away with murder among the males.'

'Well, what are you grumbling about then?'

'Clothes, dearie, clothes, an' 'ow ter pay me bills!'

'Must you have so many?'

'Yus All part of the gime, lovie.'

Fiona nodded. 'I don't blame you really because you've got such marvellous taste. I expect I should be the same if I looked so devastatingly chic. But can't you get papa to increase your allowance?'

'Not a hope, darling; Herbert is broke to the wide. I cornered the old boy at Holkenham after he'd been at Bronson's "96 port, but it wasn't any earthly use.'

'But he must have a pretty big income still.'

'He swears he hasn't a bob. It would be different if we could persuade him to close down Banners. That place positively eats money, but he won't. He says it is unfitting that he should add to the number of the unemployed.'

'It's a pity that some of these beastly Communists can't hear him!'

'Oh, it's not only that, my dear, he gets all Ducal too! “As long as there has been a Burminster, Banners has been the centre of life for three counties. The Monarch would be most displeased, I'm sure.” Then I hoot with laughter. You know what a little round fat man Herbert is, and he's just too comic for words when he starts to take himself seriously. No, darling I'm afraid it's got to be the Purple Monkey in the end!"

'You can't, Veronica.'

'Darling, why not? He's got a delicious wit, really artistic taste, and we could have a bedspread sewn with diamonds. What more does any girl want?'

'Someone to be really fond of don't you think?'

'What rippling rot, Fiona. Everybody gets divorced after two years these days.'

'Ugh!' Fiona gave a little shudder. 'Just to think of that blue chin pressed against my neck makes me sick and he's old enough to be your father you simply couldn't!'

Veronica leaned back and gave a shout of laughter. 'You pet! how gloriously serious you are!'

'I detest lecherous old men.'

'I don't they amuse me. Besides he's no age really forty five perhaps, but he looks more because he's dark and a foreigner. Anyhow I should trompee him and have dozens of handsome young lovers!'

'How's Alistair, as mad about you as ever?'

'Yes, poor lamb and I thank you, my love, Major Hay-​Symple is in excellent health. He was with us at Holkenham.'

'To help Kenyon with the campaign or to flirt with your ladyship?'

'Both! but my ladyship was rather unkind I fear. Holkenham is no place for parlour games. If we'd been rumbled by the Bronsons they'd have spread the most ghastly scandal about me in ten ticks. I simply didn't dare risk it, so Alistair had to console himself by punishing the port. He was a great success with the children though.'

Fiona looked puzzled. 'I didn't know there were any.'

'Oh, in the house? thank God, no! that would have been the last straw. I mean the young Britons. We made him tell them “What I did in the Great War, Daddie!” He simply hated it, of course, and he was only some sort of junior dogs body at the time, but he got crossed fig leaves or something for some act of idiocy he performed when he was tight as an owl they lapped it up! He had to leave us on Saturday though, he was recalled by telegram.'

'Yes, all leave has been cancelled. Peter says the Government have got the wind up to the eyebrows but about Alistair. Why don't you marry him, Veronica?'

'My sweet, you know perfectly well that he hasn't got a cent.'

'But he'll come into the place when his father dies.1

'Yes, when he's ninety and I've grown a lovely long dewlap, thank you, darling No!'

'Oh, Veronica, don't be absurd.'

'I mean it, lovie these 'ere surgeons is that 'andy wiv their h'instruments nowadays they keeps all the old crocks in the 'untin' field until they're h'octogenarians!'

'You'd be very happy with Alistair.'

Veronica stretched her slim arms above her head and smiled indulgently. 'You think of everybody in terms of Peter and yourself and, little sentimental fool that you are I adore you. But I always have been attracted by queer men and I shall always be liable to go off the rails with any new man who comes along if he's got brains and guts.'

'Well, you can't say that Alistair lacks guts, and he's got brains as well he's been through Staff College.'

'Yes, with a kick in the pants! as for guts, darling, he keeps them filed away in the War Office to be taken out when wanted, so they're not the kind I care about. Tell me, is Peter coming in to booze with us this evening?'

'Yes, about six I expect, it's nearly that now.'

'Marvellous I tried to get several chaps but they are all in their little uniforms playing at Special Constables, or busy joining Llewellyn's comic opera Greyshirts. Still, Alistair is coming in for half an hour and Kenyon will be in any moment so they'll be able to tell us all about Auld England on its last legs. I suppose you haven't seen an evening paper, have you?'

Fiona shook her head. 'No, but I believe that there's been awful trouble in the north. Dorothy you know, the girl who does my hair at Ernalde's, told me that Glasgow is completely cut off, and a railway bridge blown up so that no trains come through.'

'My dear! these filthy Communists.'

'Terrible, isn't it, but I suppose we shall pull through somehow we always seem to 1'

'Of course, darling. Everything would have been straightened out years ago if it hadn't been for those pompous old lunatics in the Cabinet. Half of them are absolutely gaga.'

'I suppose they do their best, but really Gladnor ought to have retired aeons ago. How he has had the face to hang on to a post in each successive Government is a mystery to me.'