flustered. Morgan was full of bullshit, the policemen had irritated him and he was going to be late. He snapped a command at the driver and the taxi lurched off into the traffic. Ten minutes later they drew up outside The Ritz Hotel and Norton fumbled some change into the taxi-driver’s hands and ran up the stairs. After searching the lobby bar and enquiring at the restaurant, he realised that he had arrived earlier than his lunch companion and so relaxed a little. He was shown to his table and ordered a dry Martini. Looking around him he saw that the room was almost full. In a far corner he recognised Nancy Swinton, who was looking smart in a navy-blue outfit. She was lunching with an older man with a shock of flowing white hair. His face was partially obscured but seemed familiar. Nancy had seen him and returned his smile, and Norton was on the point of wandering over to exchange a few words when his host arrived.
“Arthur. Sorry I am late. I got stuck in a frightfully boring F.O. meeting with his lordship and only just managed to extricate myself.”
“No need for apologies. I was a little late myself.”
A waiter rushed to help Douglas into his seat.
“Entertaining evening at the Pelhams, wasn’t it, Freddie?”
“Indeed, and I enjoyed the after-dinner fun as well.” Douglas winked then noticed Norton’s empty glass.
“A dry sherry please, Pierre. And another of whatever my friend’s having.” Douglas surveyed the room to see which of the great and good were lunching today, catching the eyes of several diners and acknowledging them with cheerful nods. In one case he stood up and bowed. “The Marquis of Londonderry. Fine man. Very sound on our current difficult situation.”
He sat down and continued his scrutiny of the other diners. “Isn’t that the charming Nancy Swinton who was with us the other night? Looks a picture. Lucky Lloyd George. The old man’s still got some steam in him, eh?”
“Ah, that’s who it is.” Norton knew that Britain’s former prime minister had been very keen on the opposite sex throughout his long career but surely he wasn’t at it still?
“Only joking, Arthur. I think LG is a long-standing friend of Nancy’s family, so I’m sure their lunch is perfectly innocent. In any case, I believe that the goat in him has finally been put out to pasture. Well this is grand, is it not? The Ritz in all its glory and the menu and wine list as good as always. You can hardly tell there’s a war on, can you, with everyone here in their luncheon finery?”
“Good of you to invite me when you must be very busy.”
“Busy, yes. But, you know, it’s funny – even in this mad situation, most of the senior officials still maintain their prewar practice of starting the working day at 10.30am or 11.00am. Amazing, isn’t it? I tend to get in to my office around 9.00am and am regarded as something of, how do you Yanks say it, an oddball?”
“You surprise me. I know the Ambassador always makes a very early start, but he’s exceptional even in the American context.”
“A human dynamo from what I hear.”
The waiter arrived with menus and the men carefully assessed their options. Eventually both chose the roast beef and Douglas suggested a bottle of Brouilly as accompaniment.
“Lightly chilled please, Pierre, as usual.”
Over lunch they discussed various acquaintances they had in common and exchanged idle gossip about their respective organisations. Douglas told a few amusing and indiscreet stories about his superiors at the F.O. while Norton ran through a few war stories, much diluted and edited, from his commercial experiences with the Ambassador.
Afterwards, they found a quiet corner in the lounge and ordered coffee and cigars. “Care for a brandy, Arthur?”
“Sure, but isn’t it getting late for you? Aren’t you needed back at the office?”
“Not really. Work can be done in or out of the office and enjoyable as this lunch has been, there is an element of
“Arthur. Sorry I am late. I got stuck in a frightfully boring F.O. meeting with his lordship and only just managed to extricate myself.”
“No need for apologies. I was a little late myself.”
A waiter rushed to help Douglas into his seat.
“Entertaining evening at the Pelhams, wasn’t it, Freddie?”
“Indeed, and I enjoyed the after-dinner fun as well.” Douglas winked then noticed Norton’s empty glass.
“A dry sherry please, Pierre. And another of whatever my friend’s having.” Douglas surveyed the room to see which of the great and good were lunching today, catching the eyes of several diners and acknowledging them with cheerful nods. In one case he stood up and bowed. “The Marquis of Londonderry. Fine man. Very sound on our current difficult situation.”
He sat down and continued his scrutiny of the other diners. “Isn’t that the charming Nancy Swinton who was with us the other night? Looks a picture. Lucky Lloyd George. The old man’s still got some steam in him, eh?”
“Ah, that’s who it is.” Norton knew that Britain’s former prime minister had been very keen on the opposite sex throughout his long career but surely he wasn’t at it still?
“Only joking, Arthur. I think LG is a long-standing friend of Nancy’s family, so I’m sure their lunch is perfectly innocent. In any case, I believe that the goat in him has finally been put out to pasture. Well this is grand, is it not? The Ritz in all its glory and the menu and wine list as good as always. You can hardly tell there’s a war on, can you, with everyone here in their luncheon finery?”
“Good of you to invite me when you must be very busy.”
“Busy, yes. But, you know, it’s funny – even in this mad situation, most of the senior officials still maintain their prewar practice of starting the working day at 10.30am or 11.00am. Amazing, isn’t it? I tend to get in to my office around 9.00am and am regarded as something of, how do you Yanks say it, an oddball?”
“You surprise me. I know the Ambassador always makes a very early start, but he’s exceptional even in the American context.”
“A human dynamo from what I hear.”
The waiter arrived with menus and the men carefully assessed their options. Eventually both chose the roast beef and Douglas suggested a bottle of Brouilly as accompaniment.
“Lightly chilled please, Pierre, as usual.”
Over lunch they discussed various acquaintances they had in common and exchanged idle gossip about their respective organisations. Douglas told a few amusing and indiscreet stories about his superiors at the F.O. while Norton ran through a few war stories, much diluted and edited, from his commercial experiences with the Ambassador.
Afterwards, they found a quiet corner in the lounge and ordered coffee and cigars. “Care for a brandy, Arthur?”
“Sure, but isn’t it getting late for you? Aren’t you needed back at the office?”
“Not really. Work can be done in or out of the office and enjoyable as this lunch has been, there is an element of
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