Surfeit of Lampreys Read Online Free Page B

overcoats and heard only confused cries of greeting. Suddenly she found herself in somebody’s arms. False beards and nose were pressed against her cheeks; she smelt Frid’s scent and the stuff Henry put on his hair.
    â€œHullo, darling,” cried the Lampreys.
    â€œDid you like our haka ?” asked Frid. “I wanted us to wear Maori mats and be painted brown but Henry wanted to be bearded so we compromised. It’s such fun you’ve come.”
    â€œTell me,” said Henry solemnly, “What do you think of dear old England?”
    â€œDid you have a nice voyage?” asked Frid anxiously. “Were you sick?”
    â€œShall we go now?”
    â€œOr do you want to kiss the Captain?”
    â€œCome on,” said Frid. “Let’s go. Henry says we’ve got to bribe the customs so that they’ll take you first.”
    â€œDo be quiet, Frid,” said Henry, “it’s all a secret and you don’t call it a bribe. Have you got any money, Robin? I’m afraid we haven’t.”
    â€œYes, of course,” said Roberta. “How much?”
    â€œTen bob. I’ll do it. It doesn’t matter so much if I’m arrested.”
    â€œYou’d better take off your beard,” said Frid.
    The rest of the morning was a dream. There was a long wait in the customs shed where Roberta kept remeeting all the passengers to whom she had said good-bye. There was a trundling of luggage to a large car where a chauffeur waited. Roberta instantly felt apologetic about the size of her cabin trunk. She found it quite impossible to readjust herself to these rapidly changing events. She was only vaguely aware of a broad and slovenly street, of buildings that seemed incredibly drab, of ever-increasing traffic. When Henry and Frid told her that this was the East End and murmured about Limehouse and Poplar, Roberta was only vaguely disappointed that the places were so much less romantic than their associations, that the squalor held no suggestion of illicit glamour, that the Road—looked so precisely like its name. When they came into the City and Henry and Frid pointed uncertainly to the Mansion House or suggested she should look at the dome of St. Paul’s, Roberta obediently stared out of the windows but nothing that she saw seemed real. It was as if she lay on an unfamiliar beach and breaker after breaker rolled over her head. The noise of London bemused her more than the noise of the sea. Her mind was limp; she heard herself talking and wondered at the coherence of the sentence.
    â€œHere’s Fleet Street,” said Henry. “Do you remember ‘Up the Hill of Ludgate, down the Hill of Fleet’?”
    â€œYes,” murmured Roberta, “yes. Fleet Street.”
    â€œWe’ve miles to go still,” said Frid. “Robin, did you know I am going to be an actress?”
    â€œShe might have guessed,” said Henry, “by the way you walk. Did you notice her walk, Robin? She sort of paws the ground. When she comes into the room she shuts the door behind her and leans against it.”
    Frid grinned. “I do it beautifully,” she said. “It’s second nature to me.”
    â€œShe goes to a frightful place inhabited by young men in mufflers who run their hands through their hair and tell Frid she’s marvellous.”
    â€œIt’s a dramatic school,” Frid explained. “The young men are very intelligent. All of them say I’m going to be a good actress.”
    â€œWe’ll be passing the law courts in a minute,” said Henry.
    Scarlet omnibuses sailed past like ships. Inside them were pale people who looked at once alert, tired and preoccupied. In a traffic jam a dark blue car came so close alongside that the men in the back seat were only a few inches away from Roberta and the Lampreys.
    â€œThat’s one of the new police cars, Frid,” said Henry.
    â€œHow do you