grimly.
‘Come on, dear boy, you only live once. Besides, just think, when we’ve taken possession of your property and its Nazi treasure, we’ll be quids in and can treat ourselves to all manner of fancy places.’
Before I could tell him he inhabited a world of crazed delusion, he had launched once more into a mangled version of ‘La Mer’; only this time it was accompanied by growls from Bouncer and a peevish protest from Maurice, who having woken up was intent on making his presence felt.
And thus a few yards further on we made our musical entry into the car park of L’Auberge du Cheval Blanc. It did indeed look expensive, but also very nice; and despite my qualms, the thought of a comfortable bed and lavish dining room was an inviting prospect. I hoped they could accommodate us.
‘You two stay here,’ directed Nicholas, ‘while I make enquiries.’ He got out and strolled towards the entrance. While he was gone Primrose and I discussed the question of the animals, i.e. how best to manage them. I thought it unwise to resurrect the possibility of her handbag for the cat, and suggested instead that we left both in the car for the time being and that after dinner I would make a surreptitious retrieval and sneak them up to my room.
‘But you’ll still have to feed the brutes,’ she said.
This time I did mention her bag: ‘It’s got a very neat outside pocket, just the place for a few scraps from the table. It would be ideal.’ I waited for the eruption but none came for her attention was focused elsewhere.
‘I say, Francis,’ she exclaimed, ‘you’ll never guess what I’ve just seen.’
‘What?’
‘Over there, on the other side of the big Renault – it’s that Austin-Healey again. It’s just driven in. I’m sure it’s the same one that Climp and Mullion were in. What a coincidence!’
I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw the sleek silver bonnet and distinctive headlamps. It was an Austin-Healey 100 all right, but whether theirs one couldn’t be sure. The occupants weren’t visible and I was about to get out to take a discreet look when Nicholas appeared and signalled a thumbs up. ‘No difficulty,’ he announced, ‘they’ll be only too delighted to have us. I’ve seen the rooms and everything is absolutely comme il faut . In fact, a distinctly good find.’ He grinned broadly, obviously pleased with himself.
The Cat’s Memoir
As you may expect from one practised in feline strategy, all went entirely to plan, and it was with little difficulty that I concealed myself in the vicar’s car and then subsequently the Type’s. I was rather pleased with my handling of this later transference for it required both speed and fine judgement. But it is not for nothing that I am the great nephew of Marmaduke The Houdini, and fine genes will always out.
I cannot say that my sojourn in the boot of the Brighton Type’s car was congenial (distinctly cramped and stuffy), but unlike my human companions I found the motion of the waves pleasantly soothing – a fact that I was careful to impress upon Bouncer when next I saw him. Some of my earliest memories are of spending long hours being cat’s-cradled in the garden hammock with Uncle Marmaduke, and I think its swaying rhythm must have fitted me for undulation. Anyway, whatever the cause, my time on the boat was agreeable – which is not something that can be said for the first hour or so on land. Squashed, hungry and hot, I was becoming as Bouncer might say distinctly ‘ratty’. And added to the physical discomfort there was also a nagging disquiet over something I had happened to overhear as the boat docked.
Roused from my snooze by thuds and noises, I realized that preparations were afoot to move the cars and rally the passengers. And then there was a light rap on the roof and I heard an alien voice say, ‘So you think this is theirs, do you?’ Whoever was being addressed must have confirmed, for the voice then
‘Come on, dear boy, you only live once. Besides, just think, when we’ve taken possession of your property and its Nazi treasure, we’ll be quids in and can treat ourselves to all manner of fancy places.’
Before I could tell him he inhabited a world of crazed delusion, he had launched once more into a mangled version of ‘La Mer’; only this time it was accompanied by growls from Bouncer and a peevish protest from Maurice, who having woken up was intent on making his presence felt.
And thus a few yards further on we made our musical entry into the car park of L’Auberge du Cheval Blanc. It did indeed look expensive, but also very nice; and despite my qualms, the thought of a comfortable bed and lavish dining room was an inviting prospect. I hoped they could accommodate us.
‘You two stay here,’ directed Nicholas, ‘while I make enquiries.’ He got out and strolled towards the entrance. While he was gone Primrose and I discussed the question of the animals, i.e. how best to manage them. I thought it unwise to resurrect the possibility of her handbag for the cat, and suggested instead that we left both in the car for the time being and that after dinner I would make a surreptitious retrieval and sneak them up to my room.
‘But you’ll still have to feed the brutes,’ she said.
This time I did mention her bag: ‘It’s got a very neat outside pocket, just the place for a few scraps from the table. It would be ideal.’ I waited for the eruption but none came for her attention was focused elsewhere.
‘I say, Francis,’ she exclaimed, ‘you’ll never guess what I’ve just seen.’
‘What?’
‘Over there, on the other side of the big Renault – it’s that Austin-Healey again. It’s just driven in. I’m sure it’s the same one that Climp and Mullion were in. What a coincidence!’
I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw the sleek silver bonnet and distinctive headlamps. It was an Austin-Healey 100 all right, but whether theirs one couldn’t be sure. The occupants weren’t visible and I was about to get out to take a discreet look when Nicholas appeared and signalled a thumbs up. ‘No difficulty,’ he announced, ‘they’ll be only too delighted to have us. I’ve seen the rooms and everything is absolutely comme il faut . In fact, a distinctly good find.’ He grinned broadly, obviously pleased with himself.
The Cat’s Memoir
As you may expect from one practised in feline strategy, all went entirely to plan, and it was with little difficulty that I concealed myself in the vicar’s car and then subsequently the Type’s. I was rather pleased with my handling of this later transference for it required both speed and fine judgement. But it is not for nothing that I am the great nephew of Marmaduke The Houdini, and fine genes will always out.
I cannot say that my sojourn in the boot of the Brighton Type’s car was congenial (distinctly cramped and stuffy), but unlike my human companions I found the motion of the waves pleasantly soothing – a fact that I was careful to impress upon Bouncer when next I saw him. Some of my earliest memories are of spending long hours being cat’s-cradled in the garden hammock with Uncle Marmaduke, and I think its swaying rhythm must have fitted me for undulation. Anyway, whatever the cause, my time on the boat was agreeable – which is not something that can be said for the first hour or so on land. Squashed, hungry and hot, I was becoming as Bouncer might say distinctly ‘ratty’. And added to the physical discomfort there was also a nagging disquiet over something I had happened to overhear as the boat docked.
Roused from my snooze by thuds and noises, I realized that preparations were afoot to move the cars and rally the passengers. And then there was a light rap on the roof and I heard an alien voice say, ‘So you think this is theirs, do you?’ Whoever was being addressed must have confirmed, for the voice then
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