you both know Helen? An art buff and all-round gifted collaborator of mine.’
Loxton had heard that good pictures came and went on the walls of Lamb’s place faster than storm clouds across the moon, proper masterpieces, not painting-by-numbers jobs. Where it came
from and where it went nobody except Jack could say, and he didn’t. It might be a Picasso with your breakfast, and Kevin Rembrandt by supper time. Jack Lamb said he liked change. Loxton
reckoned he liked notes much better, especially fifties in bulk and, if possible, new and hard to trace.
‘We always try to get to this occasion, Jack,’ Alma gurgled. ‘Invariably, such a happy turn-out, and so deeply worthwhile. The best of all worlds, one might say.’
‘Exactly.’
‘One feels one’s self to be among friends,’ Alma said, ‘all linked year after year by the Christian impulse to help others.’
‘Indeed,’ Lamb said.
Loxton would say one thing for him – as Alma dished out this horseshit he kept his face dead straight. But perhaps Lamb was not listening much, just watching her, because she could get
real excited when talking good works, and her face would light up, making her look lovely again, and so full of life. Although most of what she said at these times embarrassed and bored Loxton
inside out, a part of him was forced to admire her. His wife had a real go at things, held nothing back, even if it was almost total balls. He knew then what he used to see in her years ago –
the enthusiasm and guts, and the beauty. All right, it was hard to keep going on memories, but didn’t all marriages that lasted?
‘Are you in art, that sort of line?’ Helen asked Loxton.
‘Not altogether,’ he replied.
‘Theodore has various business interests,’ Lamb said.
‘Fascinating,’ the girl cried. ‘Such as, Theodore?’
‘One thing and the other,’ Loxton said, moving a hand about gently in the air to signify.
‘Long-established concern and a devoted staff, I know that,’ Lamb said. ‘Very gifted people, many of them. Philip Macey, Norman, Tommy Vit, sometimes. These people are experts
in their fields.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Loxton replied. He began to feel uneasy.
‘Which fields?’ the girl asked.
‘Absolute experts,’ Lamb replied.
‘We’re so lucky in that respect,’ Alma said. ‘Contented personnel.’
‘No business can thrive without,’ Lamb went on.
‘Certainly not,’ Alma said.
‘And are they all in good shape, your people, I wonder?’ Lamb asked.
Loxton was not keen on the question, or where it might be leading. ‘In good shape? Great. Why not?’
‘Oh, Theodore, so brusque. It’s very nice of you to inquire, Mr Lamb, Jack,’ Alma said. ‘Yes, fine. People stay with Theodore. Very little change-over.’
‘That’s crucial,’ Lamb remarked.
‘Occasionally a youngster leaves, but the old hands are so wonderfully loyal,’ Alma said.
‘Yes?’ Lamb replied.
Loxton watched him grow alert.
‘Restless youth,’ Alma said. ‘You’ll understand.’
‘Of course,’ Lamb replied. ‘Helen, here, was a real nomad. Who’s gone from you lately, then, Alma?’
The bugger was no-naming but meant Justin Paynter, for sure, so obvious it became pathetic. And yet Lamb most likely thought he was winning every prize for subtlety. Did he realize how much he
might be giving away about himself? The link between them two, Jack Lamb and Justin, really did exist, then? ‘Gone?’ Loxton said. ‘How do you mean, Jack?’
‘Left, as Alma mentioned.’
‘Oh, Alma was just talking general, you know. Nobody particular.’
Alma Loxton said: ‘But Theodore, I –’
‘Yes, she was just talking general,’ Loxton declared. ‘Ah.’ He held up a hand as the band began ‘Stardust’. ‘Alma knows this is one of my
favourites.’ He smiled his apologies to Helen and Lamb for breaking up the conversation and immediately walked Alma to the dance floor.
‘Are you crazy?’ she said.
‘It’s a
Loxton had heard that good pictures came and went on the walls of Lamb’s place faster than storm clouds across the moon, proper masterpieces, not painting-by-numbers jobs. Where it came
from and where it went nobody except Jack could say, and he didn’t. It might be a Picasso with your breakfast, and Kevin Rembrandt by supper time. Jack Lamb said he liked change. Loxton
reckoned he liked notes much better, especially fifties in bulk and, if possible, new and hard to trace.
‘We always try to get to this occasion, Jack,’ Alma gurgled. ‘Invariably, such a happy turn-out, and so deeply worthwhile. The best of all worlds, one might say.’
‘Exactly.’
‘One feels one’s self to be among friends,’ Alma said, ‘all linked year after year by the Christian impulse to help others.’
‘Indeed,’ Lamb said.
Loxton would say one thing for him – as Alma dished out this horseshit he kept his face dead straight. But perhaps Lamb was not listening much, just watching her, because she could get
real excited when talking good works, and her face would light up, making her look lovely again, and so full of life. Although most of what she said at these times embarrassed and bored Loxton
inside out, a part of him was forced to admire her. His wife had a real go at things, held nothing back, even if it was almost total balls. He knew then what he used to see in her years ago –
the enthusiasm and guts, and the beauty. All right, it was hard to keep going on memories, but didn’t all marriages that lasted?
‘Are you in art, that sort of line?’ Helen asked Loxton.
‘Not altogether,’ he replied.
‘Theodore has various business interests,’ Lamb said.
‘Fascinating,’ the girl cried. ‘Such as, Theodore?’
‘One thing and the other,’ Loxton said, moving a hand about gently in the air to signify.
‘Long-established concern and a devoted staff, I know that,’ Lamb said. ‘Very gifted people, many of them. Philip Macey, Norman, Tommy Vit, sometimes. These people are experts
in their fields.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Loxton replied. He began to feel uneasy.
‘Which fields?’ the girl asked.
‘Absolute experts,’ Lamb replied.
‘We’re so lucky in that respect,’ Alma said. ‘Contented personnel.’
‘No business can thrive without,’ Lamb went on.
‘Certainly not,’ Alma said.
‘And are they all in good shape, your people, I wonder?’ Lamb asked.
Loxton was not keen on the question, or where it might be leading. ‘In good shape? Great. Why not?’
‘Oh, Theodore, so brusque. It’s very nice of you to inquire, Mr Lamb, Jack,’ Alma said. ‘Yes, fine. People stay with Theodore. Very little change-over.’
‘That’s crucial,’ Lamb remarked.
‘Occasionally a youngster leaves, but the old hands are so wonderfully loyal,’ Alma said.
‘Yes?’ Lamb replied.
Loxton watched him grow alert.
‘Restless youth,’ Alma said. ‘You’ll understand.’
‘Of course,’ Lamb replied. ‘Helen, here, was a real nomad. Who’s gone from you lately, then, Alma?’
The bugger was no-naming but meant Justin Paynter, for sure, so obvious it became pathetic. And yet Lamb most likely thought he was winning every prize for subtlety. Did he realize how much he
might be giving away about himself? The link between them two, Jack Lamb and Justin, really did exist, then? ‘Gone?’ Loxton said. ‘How do you mean, Jack?’
‘Left, as Alma mentioned.’
‘Oh, Alma was just talking general, you know. Nobody particular.’
Alma Loxton said: ‘But Theodore, I –’
‘Yes, she was just talking general,’ Loxton declared. ‘Ah.’ He held up a hand as the band began ‘Stardust’. ‘Alma knows this is one of my
favourites.’ He smiled his apologies to Helen and Lamb for breaking up the conversation and immediately walked Alma to the dance floor.
‘Are you crazy?’ she said.
‘It’s a
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