A Fall from Grace Read Online Free Page B

our regular shoulder to cry on,” said Nancy, looking to the other end of the bar, where Desmond had got his place in the sun and was talking earnestly to Chris. His hands sometimes made actorish gestures, but from him they seemed deeply, anguishedly in earnest.
    â€œDesmond’s been offered a stage part,” said Charlie. “In The Wild Duck. He’s not sure he’s up to it, not sure he wants the bother. But I think the money would come in useful.”
    â€œHe should take it,” said Felicity. “It’s a lovely part—funny, but tender and pathetic as well.”
    â€œI hear that he’s never done anything except Silly-Billy parts,” said Rupert, nakedly contemptuous of his rival celebrity. “Not much of a preparation for Ibsen.”
    â€œI’m not so sure,” said Nancy. “You sometimes get these comedians and soap stars who suddenly get a chance of a really meaty role and they make a wonderful success of it. He could be at the start of a whole new career. He should go for it.”
    She looked studiously away from Rupert Coggenhoe’s sneering face. Charlie thought she was an intelligent woman, if only because she agreed with him. If he was right she would not last long as Coggenhoe’s favored aide and helpmeet. He leaned forward and picked up glasses.
    â€œSame again, everyone, or a change of tipple?”
    At the bar he found himself next to Chris Carlson.
    â€œHow’s the surgery going?” he asked.
    â€œQuite well,” said Chris, a tiny wafting of irritation crossing his face. “But you’re being mischievous as usual. You know I don’t do medical advice. The most I do is pass them on to someone who will, if I think there’s anything that needs checking over.”
    â€œI’m sure you act impeccably, and I’m sure you save the local GPs from a lot of fruitless surgery sessions. But I meant a sort of emotional surgery. Advice for the sorely tried and bewildered.”
    â€œAh, poor old Desmond,” said Chris sagely. “Well, I just let him talk the thing through. I can’t advise him, but I can listen. I think underneath he desperately wants to experience again the excitement of being onstage, and all the backstage gossip and bitchery.”
    â€œI expect you’re right, though the fear at the top isn’t going to go away, and it will be worse at his age. But I’m sure you help them to think things through for themselves.”
    â€œI try to. But you have your doubts, don’t you?”
    â€œDo I? I suppose my face is easily read . . . I’m not sure I can put the doubts into words. There seems to me a danger of you becoming necessary to people here—someone who anything of any importance has to be discussed with.”
    â€œThat makes me sound a frightful prig. But talking things through never did anyone any harm, did it? Why is there any danger in people doing that?”
    â€œI really meant danger to you. Seeing yourself as a sort of moral arbiter to the whole village. You might start to see yourself as indispensable, whereas really you’re just the icing on the cake. Now I sound a prig, don’t I? But as a rule I find people only take advice that coincides with what they intend to do anyway.”
    â€œCynic. You make me feel quite useless. Oh, there’s Alison. Over here, darling.”
    By the time that she had pushed her pregnant way through the crowded bar, Chris had been commandeered by a worried and bespectacled middle-aged man whom Charlie classified in his mind as a schoolteacher. Charlie raised his eyebrows at Alison, added a Britvic Orange to his order, then shared the carrying with her so as to bring her over to his table. He did this with intent, and it worked like a dream: when his father-in-law saw the approach of another pregnant woman he began to show signs of unease, and when Charlie said he’d go out and fetch Carola in as it