and threw them at Miss Brunner’s feet. “I’m sure yer’ll do yer best, love,” she said softly. “Don’t let Modom ’ere shove yer abart!”
Miss Brunner seemed paralysed. Hands on fat hips, Mrs Cornelius appeared to grow in stature as she waltzed around the drenched figure. “I know yer! I know yer!” she chanted. “I know yer! I know yer! Ya ya ya!”
“Everything all right at home, Mum?” said Catherine desperately.
“Not bad.” Mrs Cornelius was pleased with herself, although later she might regret this action. She’d taken the job because of the boy, after she and Sammy had had words. But tonight it would be feathers and frills again and a trip to the Cremorne Gardens. Her right hand swept down on Miss Brunner’s sodden and corseted rump. There was loud bang as flesh struck whalebone. Still Miss Brunner did not move. Mrs Cornelius giggled. “Don’t let ’er wear yer aht.” She circled Miss Brunner once more and then waved at her from the door. “Ta, ta, Lady Muck.”
In terror, Catherine murmured to her mother, “See you soon.”
“Keep yourself clean and yer can’t go wrong,” advised Mrs Cornelius as she closed the door. The last Catherine saw was her leering wink.
Miss Brunner came alive with a snort. “Dreadful woman. I was forced to sack her. I’ll get changed. Can you two be ready by the time I’ve finished?”
Una was amused by Miss Brunner’s attitude. “This is a farce. Whom are we to entertain this evening?”
“Prinz Lobkowitz and his friends will arrive at six.”
“Oh,” said Catherine, reminiscently.
“Silly creatures,” said Miss Brunner.
Una Persson raised her lovely eyebrows. “Aha.”
“Our success depends on tonight’s meeting,” Miss Brunner said as she left. The door slammed.
Una stroked Catherine’s thigh beneath the sheet. “I wonder if this is the ‘big meeting’?”
Catherine shook her golden head. “That’s not for a while.”
“For all we know it’s already happened. And what comes after the meeting? This identity’s getting me down. Not enough information. Do you ever think about the nature of Time?”
“Of course.” Catherine twisted so that she could place her delicate lips on Una Persson’s flat stomach and at the same time her hand rose lightly to touch her friend’s clitoris. Una sighed with pleasure. From where she lay she could see the abandoned mop, the fallen bucket, the apron and the cap. “Your mother has spirit. I hadn’t expected that.”
“Neither had I.” Catherine’s tongue fluttered like a trapped butterfly, the pressure of her hand increased. Una made a noise.
“I was terrified of them both,” said Catherine. “I still am.”
“Forget it.”
Una gave a coarse, satisfied grunt.
“Good?” whispered Catherine Cornelius.
THE BUSINESSMEN
“Molly O’Morgan with her little organ
Was dressed up in colours so gay,
Out in the street every day
,
Playing too-ra-la-oor-a-li-oor-a-li-ay.
Fellows who met her will never forget her
,
She set all their heads in a whirl.
Molly O’Morgan with her little organ
The Irish-Aye-talian girl!”
sang Major Nye, twirling his splendid moustache and swirling his huge, tartan ulster as he strode over the moor with Sebastian Auchinek in tow. Auchinek was miserable and sought desperately about him for some sign of human habitation, preferably an inn. But there was none; just grass and gorse and boulders, the occasional bird and a few shy sheep. If Major Nye had not been the largest shareholder in a chain of well-appointed provincial halls, Auchinek would have complained. But he had to get Una a good year’s bookings, at least thirty weeks, outside London (for as he predicted they had closed the London halls), if he was going to make it up to her for the disappointment she must feel at losing the Empire.
“One of Ella Retford’s,” explained Major Nye, pausing in his stride and looking with relish at the dark green Exmoor heather. “Has your girlie got
Miss Brunner seemed paralysed. Hands on fat hips, Mrs Cornelius appeared to grow in stature as she waltzed around the drenched figure. “I know yer! I know yer!” she chanted. “I know yer! I know yer! Ya ya ya!”
“Everything all right at home, Mum?” said Catherine desperately.
“Not bad.” Mrs Cornelius was pleased with herself, although later she might regret this action. She’d taken the job because of the boy, after she and Sammy had had words. But tonight it would be feathers and frills again and a trip to the Cremorne Gardens. Her right hand swept down on Miss Brunner’s sodden and corseted rump. There was loud bang as flesh struck whalebone. Still Miss Brunner did not move. Mrs Cornelius giggled. “Don’t let ’er wear yer aht.” She circled Miss Brunner once more and then waved at her from the door. “Ta, ta, Lady Muck.”
In terror, Catherine murmured to her mother, “See you soon.”
“Keep yourself clean and yer can’t go wrong,” advised Mrs Cornelius as she closed the door. The last Catherine saw was her leering wink.
Miss Brunner came alive with a snort. “Dreadful woman. I was forced to sack her. I’ll get changed. Can you two be ready by the time I’ve finished?”
Una was amused by Miss Brunner’s attitude. “This is a farce. Whom are we to entertain this evening?”
“Prinz Lobkowitz and his friends will arrive at six.”
“Oh,” said Catherine, reminiscently.
“Silly creatures,” said Miss Brunner.
Una Persson raised her lovely eyebrows. “Aha.”
“Our success depends on tonight’s meeting,” Miss Brunner said as she left. The door slammed.
Una stroked Catherine’s thigh beneath the sheet. “I wonder if this is the ‘big meeting’?”
Catherine shook her golden head. “That’s not for a while.”
“For all we know it’s already happened. And what comes after the meeting? This identity’s getting me down. Not enough information. Do you ever think about the nature of Time?”
“Of course.” Catherine twisted so that she could place her delicate lips on Una Persson’s flat stomach and at the same time her hand rose lightly to touch her friend’s clitoris. Una sighed with pleasure. From where she lay she could see the abandoned mop, the fallen bucket, the apron and the cap. “Your mother has spirit. I hadn’t expected that.”
“Neither had I.” Catherine’s tongue fluttered like a trapped butterfly, the pressure of her hand increased. Una made a noise.
“I was terrified of them both,” said Catherine. “I still am.”
“Forget it.”
Una gave a coarse, satisfied grunt.
“Good?” whispered Catherine Cornelius.
THE BUSINESSMEN
“Molly O’Morgan with her little organ
Was dressed up in colours so gay,
Out in the street every day
,
Playing too-ra-la-oor-a-li-oor-a-li-ay.
Fellows who met her will never forget her
,
She set all their heads in a whirl.
Molly O’Morgan with her little organ
The Irish-Aye-talian girl!”
sang Major Nye, twirling his splendid moustache and swirling his huge, tartan ulster as he strode over the moor with Sebastian Auchinek in tow. Auchinek was miserable and sought desperately about him for some sign of human habitation, preferably an inn. But there was none; just grass and gorse and boulders, the occasional bird and a few shy sheep. If Major Nye had not been the largest shareholder in a chain of well-appointed provincial halls, Auchinek would have complained. But he had to get Una a good year’s bookings, at least thirty weeks, outside London (for as he predicted they had closed the London halls), if he was going to make it up to her for the disappointment she must feel at losing the Empire.
“One of Ella Retford’s,” explained Major Nye, pausing in his stride and looking with relish at the dark green Exmoor heather. “Has your girlie got
Similar Books
