Pigs Have Wings (11 page)

‘Oh, capitally.’

‘Yes,’ said Gally. He wandered to the window and stood looking out. ‘I was telling Connie that you reminded me of a couple of … Hullo.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘A strange young man is crossing the terrace.’

‘A strange young man?’

‘Look for yourself.’

Lord Emsworth joined him at the window.

‘Where? I don’t see any … Ah yes, I was looking in the wrong direction. That is not a strange young man. That is my new secretary.’

‘I didn’t know you had a new secretary.’

‘Nor did I till just now, dash it.’

‘You’d better go and pass the time of day with him.’

‘I have passed the time of day with him, and I must say that, much as I resent having these infernal secretaries thrust upon me, this time the outlook seems considerably brighter than usual. By a most happy chance, this fellow turns out to be a mine of information on the subject of pigs, and we got along capitally together. We were exchanging the customary civilities, when he suddenly said “I wonder if you are interested in pigs, Lord Emsworth?” “God bless my soul, yes,” I replied. “Are you?” “They are a passion with me,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m rather inclined to bore people about pigs,” he went on with a little laugh, and then he told me all sorts of things I didn’t know myself. He was most informative about pigs in ancient Egypt. It appears that the ancient Egyptians believed that pigs brought good crops and appeased evil spirits.’

‘You could hardly ask more of them than that.’

‘With regard to the pig in the time of Christopher Columbus –’

Lady Constance rapped the table.

‘Clarence!’

‘Yes?’

‘Go away!’

‘Eh?’

‘I came to this room to be alone. Am I not to have a moment of privacy?’

‘Yes, come along, Clarence,’ said Gally. ‘Connie is in a strange mood. We are not wanted here, and I am anxious to meet this gifted youth. What’s his name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The gifted youth’s.’

‘What gifted youth?’

‘Listen, Clarence,’ said Gally patiently. ‘You have a new secretary. You concede that?’

‘Oh, certainly, certainly.’

‘Well, I want to know what his name is.’

‘Oh, his name? You mean his
name
. Quite. Quite. It’s … no, I’ve forgotten.’

‘Smith? Jones? Brown? Cholmondeley-Marjoribanks? Vavasour-Dalrymple? Ernle-Plunkett-Drax-Plunkett?’

Lord Emsworth stood in thought.

‘No … Ah, I have it. It’s Vail.’

‘Vail!’

‘Gerald Vail. He asked me to call him Jerry.’

The door closed behind them. The sharp, wordless cry which had proceeded from Lady Constance they attributed to a creaking hinge.

Having walked as far as the end of the corridor together, in pleasant conversation on such topics as top hats, secretaries and what a pest their sister Constance was, the brothers parted with mutual expressions of good will, Lord Emsworth to go to the library for a quick look at Whiffle on
The Care Of The Pig
, Gally to toddle out into the gloaming for a breath of air.

As he toddled, he was feeling deeply stirred. It was possible, of course, that there were several Gerald Vails in the world and the one now in residence one of the wrong ones, but it seemed unlikely. The way it looked to Gally was that somehow, by the exercise of he knew not what girlish wiles and stratagems, Penny Donaldson had succeeded in smuggling into the home circle the quite unsuitable young man to whom she had given her heart, and he was filled with a profound respect for the resource and enterprise of the present generation. Where the Emmelines and Ermyntrudes of his Victorian youth, parted from ineligible suitors, had merely dropped a tear and eventually married along lines more in keeping with the trend of parental thought, the Pennys of today, full of the rebel spirit, pulled up their socks and got things done.

Her behaviour appealed to everything in this deplorable buccaneer of the nineties which made his sister Constance, his sister Julia, his sister Dora, and all his other sisters wince when they saw him and purse their lips when his name was mentioned, and he was still aglow with admiration, proud that such a girl should have honoured him with her friendship, when he bumped into something solid, and saw that it was the dream man in person.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Jerry.

‘Not at all,’ said Gally courteously. ‘A pleasure.’

Seeing the object of Penny’s affections at close range, he found himself favourably impressed. For an author Jerry Vail was rather nice-looking, most authors, as is widely known, resembling in appearance the more degraded types of fish, unless they look like birds, when they could pass as vultures and no questions asked. His face, while never likely to launch a thousand ships, was not at all a bad sort of face, and Gally could readily picture it casting a spell in a dim light on a boat deck. Looking at him, he found it easy to understand why Penny should have described him as a baa-lamb. From a cursory inspection he seemed well entitled to membership in that limited class.

Jerry, meanwhile, drinking Gally in, had discovered that this was no stranger he had rammed.

‘Why, hullo, Mr Threepwood,’ he said. ‘You won’t remember me, but we’ve met before. I was introduced to you once by Admiral Biffen.’

Gally retained no recollection of this previous encounter, but the mention of that honoured name stirred him like a bugle.

‘You know Fruity Biffen?’

‘I’ve known him all my life. He’s a great friend of an uncle of mine. Major Basham.’

Any doubts Gally might have entertained as to the suitability of this young man as a husband for a girl on whom he looked as a daughter were dispelled. The name of Major Basham was equally as honoured as that of Fruity Biffen.

‘You mean Plug Basham is your uncle? God bless my soul, as my brother Clarence would say. One of my oldest friends.’

‘Yes, I’ve often heard him speak of you.’

‘We’ve always been like Damon and what’s-his-name. I once put a pig in his bedroom.’

‘Really? What made you do that?’

‘Oh, it struck me as a good idea. It was the night of the Bachelors’ Ball at Hammer’s Easton. Old Wivenhoe’s pig. Puffy Benger and I borrowed it and put it in Plug’s room. I had to leave early next morning, so never learned what happened when he met it. No doubt they got together across a round table and threshed things out. Plug Basham, by Jove! I once saw Plug throw a side of beef at a fellow in Romano’s. Laid him out cold, and all the undertakers present making bids for the body. How is he these days?’

‘Going as strong as ever.’

‘Fruity and I were talking about him only a week ago. Fruity was down here. Not staying at the castle – he can’t stand my sister Constance, and I don’t blame him. I got him to take a little house along the Shrewsbury road not far from here because I met him in London and he seemed a bit run down and I thought a breath of country air would do him good. But he couldn’t stick it out. Too much noise. He said there was a bunch of assorted bugs and insects in his front garden which seemed to be seeing the new year in all night, and he went back to Piccadilly, where he said a man could get a bit of peace. I miss him. Did he ever tell about the time when he and I –’

Gally paused. The story he had been about to relate was a good one, but he was a kindly man and realized that this was no time for stories, however entertaining.

‘But I mustn’t keep you here talking. You’ll be wanting to find Penny. Oh, I know all about you and Penny,’ said Gally, noticing that his young friend had leaped skywards as if a red-hot iron had been applied to the seat of his trousers. ‘She confided in me.’

Jerry became calmer. He was still not sure how he liked the idea of anyone sharing his sacred secret, but this old boy was so obviously friendly that perhaps in his case one could stretch a point.

‘I was just thinking, when you came along,’ said Gally, ‘what a really exceptional girl she must be to have sneaked you in here as Clarence’s secretary without my sister Constance entertaining a single suspicion. Good brains there. How the dickens did she work it?’

‘But Penny doesn’t know I’m here.’

‘What! Then how –?’

‘It was a girl called Gloria Salt who got me the job.’

‘Gloria Salt? Oh yes, I remember. She’s coming here.’

‘She’s here already. She drove me down in her car. She’s an old friend of mine.’ Jerry hesitated. Then he decided to keep nothing back. ‘She thought that if I became Lord Emsworth’s secretary, I might … Did Penny ever say anything to you about a scheme I had for –’

‘She told me all. In fact, she tried to touch me for that two thousand.’

‘Oh, good Lord, she shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Quite all right. I enjoyed the novel experience of having someone suppose that I had two thousand pounds. Yes, I know all about that health cure place idea of yours, and I think it’s a good one. The problem, as always, is how to get the cash. How are you coming along with regard to that? Any likely prospects in view?’

‘I was just going to tell you. Gloria thought –’

‘Because if you have nobody on your list who looks like a snip, you could do far worse than consider my brother Clarence.’

‘Why, that’s just what Gloria –’

‘My brother Clarence,’ proceeded Gally, ‘is a peculiar chap. He eats, sleeps, and dreams pig, and he was telling us just now how extraordinarily pig-minded you were. You positively stunned him with your fund of information on the subject.’

‘Yes, you see I –’

‘And the thought that crossed my mind was that, if you played your cards right, you might quite easily put yourself in a position where you could go to him, when acquaintance had ripened into friendship, and sting him for the sum you need. Yes, I know,’ said Gally catching his audience’s eye and observing that it was bulging. ‘It seems to you a bizarre idea. Far-fetched. Potty. The picture you are forming in your mind of me is that of a man talking through the back of his neck. But I know Clarence. Not an easy partner in normal circumstances, he would, I am convinced, lend a ready ear to the blandishments of a fellow pig-lover. You wait and see if I’m not right.’

Jerry was looking like the Soul’s Awakening. He stammered with emotion.

‘What an amazing coincidence!’ he said. ‘That’s exactly what Gloria told me.’

‘You mean she suggested touching Clarence?’

‘That’s why she wanted me to come here as his secretary.’

‘So that you could join him in slapping his pig on the backside and let your light so shine that eventually you would be in a position to put the bite on him?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Sounds an intelligent girl.’

‘Oh, she is. Most intelligent. She –’

Jerry broke off. Gally, eyeing him, saw that his face had lighted up as if someone had pressed a switch. Turning, for what had caused this ecstasy was apparently something that was happening behind him, he perceived Penny approaching.

‘Ah!’ he said, understanding.

The only flaw in what should have been a moment of unalloyed joy was that Penny was not alone. Walking at her side was a tall, superbly built young man whose dark, Byronic beauty made him look like something that had eluded the vigilance of the front office and escaped from the Metro-Goldwyn lot. Having met him at meals for more than two weeks, Gally had no difficulty in identifying him as Orlo, Lord Vosper.

Penny seemed listless. Her eyes, as she walked, were on the ground. It may have been merely maiden meditation, but it looked to Gally more like the pip, and he wondered what was amiss. He whooped welcomingly, and she looked up. Having done so, she stood staring, the colour draining from her face. She reminded Gally of a girl named Mabel something who, walking with him at a Buckingham Palace garden party in the year 1906, had suddenly become aware that there was a beetle down her back.

‘Ah, Penny,’ he said, subtle as always, ‘I want you to meet Clarence’s new secretary. His name is – What did you say your name was?’

‘Vail,’ said Jerry huskily.

‘Vail,’ said Gally. ‘Nice chap. Draw him out on the subject of pigs. Mr Vail, Lord Vosper.’

Lord Vosper, like Penny, seemed not to be in the highest spirits. He nodded dully at Jerry.

‘Oh, we know each other. School together. Hullo, Jerry.’

‘Hullo, Wasp. You here?’

‘That’s right. You here, too?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought so,’ said Lord Vosper, and returned to his meditations.

He was still occupied with them, and the silence which had fallen was still unbroken, when Sebastian Beach appeared, heading in their direction.

‘Pardon me, m’lord,’ said Beach. ‘A Mr Wapshott is on the telephone, desirous of speaking to you. He implied that the matter was of importance –’

Lord Vosper came out of his trance.

‘Wapshott?’

‘Yes, m’lord. He stated that he represented the firm of Wapshott, Wapshott, Wapshott, and Wapshott.’

‘Reminds me,’ said Gally, who never let an opportunity like this pass, ‘of the story of the chap in New York who rang up the legal firm of Shapiro, Shapiro, Shapiro, and Shapiro. “Hello,” he says, “can I speak to Mr Shapiro?” “Mr Shapiro is in court.” “Then I’ll talk to Mr Shapiro.” “Mr Shapiro is in conference with an important client.” “Then connect me with Mr Shapiro.” “I’m sorry, but Mr Shapiro has taken the day off to play golf.” “Oh, all right, then I’ll talk to Mr Shapiro.” “
Speaking
.” Who is this Wapshott?’

‘My income tax chap,’ said Lord Vosper. ‘Fellow who looks after my income tax,’ he added, clarifying the situation still further. ‘Better go and see what he wants, I suppose.’

He walked away, followed by Beach, and Gally stared after them. It seemed to him that Beach was looking careworn, and it made him uneasy. These were the times that tried men’s souls, and at such times one does not like to see a careworn butler, if that butler is a butler with whom one is sitting in on a campaign that calls for alertness and efficiency on the part of all concerned.

Turning, he saw that Penny was still gazing at Jerry in that odd, dumb way. He came to himself with a start.

‘Good Lord, I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m in the way. I see just how it is, Penny. With every fibre of your being you yearn to do a swan dive into this bimbo’s arms, but modesty forbids. “How,” you are saying, “can I fulfil and express myself with this old image goggling at me through his eyeglass as if he were sitting in the front row at the circus with his all-day sucker and his bag of peanuts?” It’s all right. I’ll look the other way.’