Hotbed by Bill James
‘I mean their grief,’ Ralph said. He gave it solemnity, though clipped, not unctuous.
‘Did they want to buy into the club with Alec’s loot?’ Iles replied. ‘They longed to be part of the new, redeemed Monty, right? A grand, sparkling wish. But Alec objected, did he? Perhaps he didn’t consider it a sane way to use his distinguished earnings. Not everyone has your special, visionary flair, Ralph. Some cannot believe the Monty will ever change itself into something different. Did Articulate think like that? People used to find him a bit slow and stupid. But had he altered somehow – felt entitled to his own views now? Instead of the women’s funding plan, he offers to take out Manse. You could then boost your trade takings and use the increase for recreating the Monty – without touching Articulate’s gorgeous funds? Was that the situation?’
‘The club’s in for another after-funeral do, Ralph,’ Harpur said. ‘The Monty’s a real social fulcrum, even untransformed. Maybe because untransformed.’
‘Your fine ambition will linger, though, Ralph. Possibly now Articulate’s a goner the two ladies will try offloading their loot in your direction again,’ Iles said. ‘The Heston pull pulls.’
Chapter Thirteen
At home in Arthur Street, Hazel said: ‘We were thinking of going to have a gaze at the Manse Shale wedding, dad. St James’s. Is that all right? It’s a crook wedding. You didn’t much like it when we went to the Turret Brown funeral. I thought we’d better clear it with you in this instance.’
‘The bride’s not a crook,’ Jill said.
‘There’ll be the same lot as guests,’ Hazel said.
‘Weddings are all right,’ Harpur said. Hadn’t Iles decided Ralph and Manse were brilliantly, humanly, unenslavedy free from the dictates of economic theory and wouldn’t be trying to kill each other, for the present?
Jill said: ‘How about you, dad?’
‘No, I don’t think I’ll come,’ he said.
‘I meant, do you ever think about getting remarried – like Mansel Shale,’ Jill said. ‘We wouldn’t mind if you married Denise.’
‘I do think about it,’ Harpur said.
‘Does she?’ Hazel said.
‘Probably not,’ Harpur said.
‘I don’t think you’re terribly old,’ Jill said.
‘Would her parents kick up a fuss?’ Hazel said.
‘Why should they?’ Jill said. ‘Dad’s got good sides as well as the . . . Shall we talk to Denise about it for you one day, soon?’
‘No, I wouldn’t want that,’ Harpur said.
‘Why?’ Jill said.
‘She might feel pressured,’ Harpur said.
‘Maybe she should,’ Jill said.
‘Not a good way to start,’ Harpur said.
‘You haven’t got time to waste,’ Jill replied.
‘I thought you said I wasn’t old,’ Harpur said.
‘Not terribly old,’ Jill said. ‘Think of Mandela.’
The girls were away for a few hours and then came back, full of delight and excitement. ‘Lovely, dad,’ Jill said.
‘Another horse-drawn vehicle. But this one an open carriage for the bride and groom to go off to the reception,’ Hazel said.
‘And then, just after they’d left, some crazy woman comes running down the road screaming she’d been kidnapped, and wanting to get into the church,’ Jill said. ‘Too late, though.’
* See Easy Street
* See Girls
* See Roses, Roses
* See Naked at the Window
* See Pix
Bill James, Hotbed