burned with a fierceness Geneviève regretted she could never match. If there was a God, Kate must be closer to Him.
Charles grew tired but insisted on staying with ‘the girls’, nodding at their conversation, dozing even.
‘It looks like Lord Ruthven won’t be Prime Minister after the next election,’ Kate said. ‘He’s never really recovered from Suez. But we’ve thought him gone before. When Winston took over in the war, I swore that was the last of him. But he came back. That’s one thing I could do without, politicians whose careers go on forever. Then again, Ruthven is such a chameleon. He keeps fading into the scenery and popping out again as a different person.’
Geneviève asked Kate about new films, plays, books, music. How had London changed? Who had she seen recently? Who was famous?
‘The Daily Mirror ran a poll about vampires recently, asking who was the most admired, the most disliked. It was to do with an exhibition at Madame Tussauds. Who do you imagine is the most admired vampire in Great Britain today?’
Geneviève couldn’t think. ‘Edmund Hillary?’
‘Good try. No, Cliff Richard .’
‘Who?’
‘A pop singer. “Living Doll”?’
Geneviève had heard the song.
‘Think of it, Geneviève. He’s never going to get old, never going to lose his voice. Would there ever have been a Caruso if Farinelli had still been around? Could Wagner have competed with a hundred-year-old Mozart? In forty years’ time, when singers who haven’t yet been born should be coming into their own, Cliff Richard will still be there, mooning over his crying, talking, sleeping, walking living doll.’
‘They say few vampires achieve distinction in the arts,’ Geneviève said.
‘There’ve been exceptions. Trust me, Mr Richard is not one of them.’
Kate tried to hum the song she’d been talking about. Geneviève laughed.
‘History is dwindling into a hit parade,’ Kate said. ‘And we have all been doing the Dracula Cha Cha Cha for too long.’
A bell sounded.
Swiftly, Geneviève answered the door. It was a liveried footman, with a message. Geneviève took it and bade him goodbye, slitting the envelope open with an extruded thumb-claw. Three gilt-edged cards shuffled out. She returned to the main room, where Charles was alert and Kate intrigued.
‘We’ve been invited to a party,’ Geneviève announced. ‘By Prince Dracula and his intended, Princess Asa Vajda. Now fancy that.’
PART TWO
LA DOLCE MORTE
FROM THE PARLIAMENTARY REPORT, THE TIMES OF LONDON, JULY 30TH, 1959
…the Honourable Hamer Radshaw (Lab.) asked: ‘Have you received an invitation to the wedding of Vlad Dracula, former Prince Consort, and if such is the case, will you attend the nuptials of this disreputable character and his blood-spattered bride?’ The Prime Minister, Lord Ruthven (Con.) replied: ‘If such an invitation were received, representatives of Her Majesty’s Government and, indeed, Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition, would of course give every consideration to an appropriate response.’ Mr Radshaw further asked: ‘Is Her Majesty also expected to traipse off to Italy to watch a former relation by marriage make yet another dynastic match?’
The Prime Minister replied: ‘I have not had the opportunity to discuss this matter with Her Majesty, but I am certain she would wish to extend hearty congratulations to her valued ally and sometime countryman, Count Dracula.’ A commotion on the floor of the House prevented further debate.
8
JOURNALISM
K ate’s room at the pensione was a tiny cupboard at the top and back of the building. A tall, thin window looked out into a narrow alley bridged by clothes lines. Shirts and sheets flapped lazily in the warm wind. This was the room set aside for vampires. Instead of a bed, a rough wooden coffin lined with a folded blanket stood on trestles. Less faded patches on the wallpaper showed where a crucifix and a mirror had been taken down. If the Gideons had left
Charles grew tired but insisted on staying with ‘the girls’, nodding at their conversation, dozing even.
‘It looks like Lord Ruthven won’t be Prime Minister after the next election,’ Kate said. ‘He’s never really recovered from Suez. But we’ve thought him gone before. When Winston took over in the war, I swore that was the last of him. But he came back. That’s one thing I could do without, politicians whose careers go on forever. Then again, Ruthven is such a chameleon. He keeps fading into the scenery and popping out again as a different person.’
Geneviève asked Kate about new films, plays, books, music. How had London changed? Who had she seen recently? Who was famous?
‘The Daily Mirror ran a poll about vampires recently, asking who was the most admired, the most disliked. It was to do with an exhibition at Madame Tussauds. Who do you imagine is the most admired vampire in Great Britain today?’
Geneviève couldn’t think. ‘Edmund Hillary?’
‘Good try. No, Cliff Richard .’
‘Who?’
‘A pop singer. “Living Doll”?’
Geneviève had heard the song.
‘Think of it, Geneviève. He’s never going to get old, never going to lose his voice. Would there ever have been a Caruso if Farinelli had still been around? Could Wagner have competed with a hundred-year-old Mozart? In forty years’ time, when singers who haven’t yet been born should be coming into their own, Cliff Richard will still be there, mooning over his crying, talking, sleeping, walking living doll.’
‘They say few vampires achieve distinction in the arts,’ Geneviève said.
‘There’ve been exceptions. Trust me, Mr Richard is not one of them.’
Kate tried to hum the song she’d been talking about. Geneviève laughed.
‘History is dwindling into a hit parade,’ Kate said. ‘And we have all been doing the Dracula Cha Cha Cha for too long.’
A bell sounded.
Swiftly, Geneviève answered the door. It was a liveried footman, with a message. Geneviève took it and bade him goodbye, slitting the envelope open with an extruded thumb-claw. Three gilt-edged cards shuffled out. She returned to the main room, where Charles was alert and Kate intrigued.
‘We’ve been invited to a party,’ Geneviève announced. ‘By Prince Dracula and his intended, Princess Asa Vajda. Now fancy that.’
PART TWO
LA DOLCE MORTE
FROM THE PARLIAMENTARY REPORT, THE TIMES OF LONDON, JULY 30TH, 1959
…the Honourable Hamer Radshaw (Lab.) asked: ‘Have you received an invitation to the wedding of Vlad Dracula, former Prince Consort, and if such is the case, will you attend the nuptials of this disreputable character and his blood-spattered bride?’ The Prime Minister, Lord Ruthven (Con.) replied: ‘If such an invitation were received, representatives of Her Majesty’s Government and, indeed, Her Majesty’s Loyal Opposition, would of course give every consideration to an appropriate response.’ Mr Radshaw further asked: ‘Is Her Majesty also expected to traipse off to Italy to watch a former relation by marriage make yet another dynastic match?’
The Prime Minister replied: ‘I have not had the opportunity to discuss this matter with Her Majesty, but I am certain she would wish to extend hearty congratulations to her valued ally and sometime countryman, Count Dracula.’ A commotion on the floor of the House prevented further debate.
8
JOURNALISM
K ate’s room at the pensione was a tiny cupboard at the top and back of the building. A tall, thin window looked out into a narrow alley bridged by clothes lines. Shirts and sheets flapped lazily in the warm wind. This was the room set aside for vampires. Instead of a bed, a rough wooden coffin lined with a folded blanket stood on trestles. Less faded patches on the wallpaper showed where a crucifix and a mirror had been taken down. If the Gideons had left
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