Sensible Life Read Online Free Page B

she might make friends with his wife. Nor was he drawn to her husband.

FOUR
    S INCE THE HOTEL WAS filling up, the management had asked Cosmo and Blanco if they minded moving into the annexe. They would share a room with a balcony larger than the one they occupied in the main building. Perhaps they would not mind the inconvenience of crossing the garden to the hotel dining-room for their meals? The servants would, of course, move their things. Cosmo and Blanco did not mind.
    “We can sneak out at night and go to a brothel,” Cosmo suggested. “If there is a brothel. I wonder what goes on?” he said wistfully. They surveyed their new room.
    “We would be turned away as under age. You know what goes on, idiot,” muttered Blanco.
    “In theory. What’s the use of theory?”
    “We could try the casino, wear false moustaches.”
    “Same applies to the casino; they guess your age to a week, I’ve heard,” said Cosmo. “Ah me, you know why they moved us, don’t you? It’s all those Dutch girls. I bet they will be strictly chaperoned, kept well clear of sex-starved us.”
    “And your sister and her friend? What’s the friend like?” asked Blanco.
    “No idea. She’s called Tashie Quayle. Are you going to have a bath?”
    “I might do. Oh God! They’ve mixed up our clothes. Look at this.” Blanco jerked open a drawer with one hand as he unbuttoned his flies with the other. “Let’s get them sorted; it’s not good for my best shirt to consort with your pants. I like this room. I wonder whether there is anyone interesting in this annexe. I say, that’s my pullover you are putting in your drawer.” He stepped out of his trousers and snatched at the pullover. “But you can have it if you like, it’s the sort of thing the Prince of Wales wears—puts me off.”
    “No thanks, I don’t want it, Blanco.”
    “I wish you’d call me Hubert, that’s my proper name,” protested Blanco.
    “With a name like Wyndeatt-Whyte you must resign yourself to Blanco, Blanco.” Cosmo ducked as his friend aimed a blow.
    “I thought your cousin Thing was called Hubert, and since you don’t care for him—”
    “My father was Hubert, too. My family are repetitive with names. I say, these walls are paper thin. Listen.”
    Footsteps tapped along the corridor and someone knocked at the door of the room next to theirs. The door opened. A woman’s voice said, “Mademoiselle? Are you in here?” The door closed.
    “Oui, Madame, I am here. The child ran in and said—I was not expecting you just yet—if I had known that you were arriving today, I would have—”
    “Sent Flora to meet us? Where is she?” The voice was sharp.
    “I let her run out to buy flowers for your room. She planned to please and surprise you and her father. I gave her some money, her next week’s pocket money to be exact.”
    “A nice thought, I suppose.”
    “It was the child’s idea.”
    “Well, yes—I see—Well, actually, while she is out, perhaps I’d better speak to you.”
    “Of course, Madame. Won’t you sit down?”
    “I’d rather stand.”
    Cosmo and Blanco listened. Cosmo unbuttoned his shirt and slowly pulled it off and, as Blanco watched, slipped off his shoes and tiptoed to the French window which opened onto the balcony. Blanco, already in socks, joined him.
    In the next room Vita Trevelyan dismissed the governess, giving her her salary and a month’s money in lieu of notice. For the rest of the holiday, she explained, and the summer months until Flora went to school, she would look after her daughter herself.
    “It would be nice for the child to see something of her papa.” Mademoiselle’s interjection was hoarse. Vita Trevelyan did not seem to hear. It would be convenient, she said, if Mademoiselle packed up and left the following day; she had arranged with the manager for Flora to move into a single room. “The single rooms are all at the back looking out on the street, not the garden,” said Mademoiselle.
    “The