Anna.
“I left the army because I slept with the Captain’s daughter. He wasn’t happy.”
Margaret choked on her wine.
“I don’t think you should be listening to this, Anna. I think James should change the subject.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” said Anna. “We hear far worse in PSHE. And English Literature.”
“Even so...”
Anna’s face remained impassive.
“Besides which, I don’t think the Captain is telling the full story...”
She held my gaze. Her eyes were dark, her dark brown hair fell in waves about her face. She truly was beautiful. And very self-composed.
“You’re right, of course,” I said, easily.
The hand touched my thigh again. To my right, Alan was being touched up by Shaqeel. To my left, Margaret was offering the same service to me. I pushed her hand away.
The maid cleared our places and then re-entered the room carrying a tray. She placed a plate before me. It bore a green egg the colour of a spearmint imperial and the size of my hand, sitting in a pool of brown gravy.
“Cassowary eggs,” said Margaret. “When you live this close to the Egg Market, it’s silly not to make use of it.”
“If only we had a decent cheese shop,” said Alan.
“You crack the egg like this,” said Margaret, demonstrating. “We’ve flummoxed it. It’s the new cooking process. Have you heard of it? You need boiling water and oodles of salt.”
“Which is bigger?” asked Anna. “Lashings or oodles?”
“There are three oodles to the lashing,” I said, and I winked at her. She looked away, unimpressed.
I cracked my egg and took a forkful of the grey meat inside. It was spicy, a little like a lamb dhansak.
“So this is a flummoxed egg, is it? Not bad.”
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” asked Margaret.
“Oh yes,” said Alan. “We’ll need to be up at six. I’ll get Anna to wake you.”
“What am I supposed to be doing?” I said. “I know I’m going to the City, I know that I’m to go to the Writing Floor of Angel Tower. What do I do when I’m in there?”
“Shhh!” said Alan. “The walls have ears, you know.”
“But...”
“Shhh...”
We ate our flummoxed eggs. The maid brought us the next course: caviar, and then the next: chocolate mousse.
“Made with egg yolks,” said Margaret.
“When you live this close to the Egg Market you may as well make use of it,” I replied.
“If only we had a cheese shop,” said Anna, dryly.
“Anna! Manners!” said Margaret.
Alan and Shaqeel whispered to each other. Margaret leant a little closer to me so that her breast pressed against my arm.
“Some more wine, Captain?”
“No thank you,” I said. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
Margaret filled her own glass to the top. She was beginning to sway a little, I noticed. Alan and Shaqeel were lost in their own private little world, Anna gazed at me without interest, and Margaret leant closer and closer. One of her breasts pushed into my arm.
“I like your jacket, Captain,” she said. “It makes you look so dashing.”
“It’s not real,” I said. “I bought this for show. These colours are a Dream London invention.”
“Still, it suits you.”
The final dish was brought through.
“Lemon sorbet,” said Margaret, touching my knee. “Cleanses the palate. Do you like it?”
“Needs more egg,” I said.
Her face froze, just for a moment, as she wondered if I was being rude. And then she laughed.
T HE MEAL ENDED and Anna said goodnight, heading upstairs to her homework, or so she said. Alan retired to his study with Shaqeel.
“Would you like a brandy, Captain Wedderburn?” A hand laid itself on the top of my thigh. Well, I say top of my thigh, but I’m being polite. To be more accurate, Margaret clasped my balls.
“No thank you, Margaret. I thought I might take a walk before bed. I need the air.”
“When you come back, I’ll probably still be up. Look for me in the drawing room.”
I left the house and spent half an hour or so
“I left the army because I slept with the Captain’s daughter. He wasn’t happy.”
Margaret choked on her wine.
“I don’t think you should be listening to this, Anna. I think James should change the subject.”
“I’m fine, Mother,” said Anna. “We hear far worse in PSHE. And English Literature.”
“Even so...”
Anna’s face remained impassive.
“Besides which, I don’t think the Captain is telling the full story...”
She held my gaze. Her eyes were dark, her dark brown hair fell in waves about her face. She truly was beautiful. And very self-composed.
“You’re right, of course,” I said, easily.
The hand touched my thigh again. To my right, Alan was being touched up by Shaqeel. To my left, Margaret was offering the same service to me. I pushed her hand away.
The maid cleared our places and then re-entered the room carrying a tray. She placed a plate before me. It bore a green egg the colour of a spearmint imperial and the size of my hand, sitting in a pool of brown gravy.
“Cassowary eggs,” said Margaret. “When you live this close to the Egg Market, it’s silly not to make use of it.”
“If only we had a decent cheese shop,” said Alan.
“You crack the egg like this,” said Margaret, demonstrating. “We’ve flummoxed it. It’s the new cooking process. Have you heard of it? You need boiling water and oodles of salt.”
“Which is bigger?” asked Anna. “Lashings or oodles?”
“There are three oodles to the lashing,” I said, and I winked at her. She looked away, unimpressed.
I cracked my egg and took a forkful of the grey meat inside. It was spicy, a little like a lamb dhansak.
“So this is a flummoxed egg, is it? Not bad.”
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” asked Margaret.
“Oh yes,” said Alan. “We’ll need to be up at six. I’ll get Anna to wake you.”
“What am I supposed to be doing?” I said. “I know I’m going to the City, I know that I’m to go to the Writing Floor of Angel Tower. What do I do when I’m in there?”
“Shhh!” said Alan. “The walls have ears, you know.”
“But...”
“Shhh...”
We ate our flummoxed eggs. The maid brought us the next course: caviar, and then the next: chocolate mousse.
“Made with egg yolks,” said Margaret.
“When you live this close to the Egg Market you may as well make use of it,” I replied.
“If only we had a cheese shop,” said Anna, dryly.
“Anna! Manners!” said Margaret.
Alan and Shaqeel whispered to each other. Margaret leant a little closer to me so that her breast pressed against my arm.
“Some more wine, Captain?”
“No thank you,” I said. “I’ve got work in the morning.”
Margaret filled her own glass to the top. She was beginning to sway a little, I noticed. Alan and Shaqeel were lost in their own private little world, Anna gazed at me without interest, and Margaret leant closer and closer. One of her breasts pushed into my arm.
“I like your jacket, Captain,” she said. “It makes you look so dashing.”
“It’s not real,” I said. “I bought this for show. These colours are a Dream London invention.”
“Still, it suits you.”
The final dish was brought through.
“Lemon sorbet,” said Margaret, touching my knee. “Cleanses the palate. Do you like it?”
“Needs more egg,” I said.
Her face froze, just for a moment, as she wondered if I was being rude. And then she laughed.
T HE MEAL ENDED and Anna said goodnight, heading upstairs to her homework, or so she said. Alan retired to his study with Shaqeel.
“Would you like a brandy, Captain Wedderburn?” A hand laid itself on the top of my thigh. Well, I say top of my thigh, but I’m being polite. To be more accurate, Margaret clasped my balls.
“No thank you, Margaret. I thought I might take a walk before bed. I need the air.”
“When you come back, I’ll probably still be up. Look for me in the drawing room.”
I left the house and spent half an hour or so
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