Free The Godson by Robert G. Barrett Page B

from Harvard in diplomacy. Norton felt a bit edgy about the whole scene, but Katherinesoothingly assured him it was just one of those unfortunate incidents that do happen from time to time and Sir Peregrine definitely was not at fault. She took him to Peregrine’s room, knocked, and then opened the door for him. Les thanked her and was told it was a pleasure.
    Norton couldn’t quite believe his eyes when he first stepped into Peregrine’s suite. It was a huge white room surrounded by floor to ceiling mirrors reflecting the light from a number of crystal chandeliers hanging daintily from the ceiling. Where there were no mirrors, the walls were dotted with watercolours and other paintings. Powder blue carpet ran wall to wall, blending in perfectly with the turquoise lounge and other furnishings. A glass table and chairs sat in front of a bed which looked more like Bondi Baths with a doona thrown over it. The entire wall behind the bed was a beautifully tiled and painted al-fresco mural of the Mediterranean, which made the whole room look twice as big again and beyond the bed through a length of lace curtains Les could see a balcony with views across half of Sydney. Norton was checking out the contents of a bar to his right when he heard a voice trill out.
    â€˜Les, dear boy. Over here.’
    Norton stepped in a little further and turned to his left. Sitting back in an immense spa-bath covered in foaming soapsuds and holding a glass of champagne, was Peregrine. Next to the gold plated taps behind his head was an ice-bucket holding a bottle of Cristal champagne and next to this was a tray containing the remnants of a dozen oysters, lobster and prawn terrine, caviar and some smoked salmon. From the way Peregrine’s eyes were swimming around Norton tipped that the bottle of bubbly sitting in the ice-bucket wasn’t the Englishman’s first.
    â€˜Hello, old porpoise,’ beamed Peregrine, holding up his glass. ‘How goes it?’
    The change in Peregrine from the serious-faced aristocrat who had arrived at Mascot, to the Hooray Henry guzzling champagne in the bubble bath took Norton by surprise. ‘How goes it?’ he parroted. ‘Pretty good, I suppose. What about yourself?’
    â€˜Splendid. Absolutely splendid.’ Peregrine took a large slurp of champagne, and smiled at Norton. ‘Well, don’t look so glum, old chum. Help yourself to a glass of champers. It’s a jolly good drop this. It’s Elton’s favourite, you know.’
    Norton stared at Peregrine as if he couldn’t quite believewhat he was seeing or hearing. ‘Have you seen this morning’s paper?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yes.’ Peregrine motioned with his glass. ‘It’s on the bed. Bit of a beano that one, what? Not a bad photo,’ he smiled. ‘But I don’t quite know if I like that hack’s way with words. I know you Australians are a bit light on when it comes to protocol and manners. But referring to me as Pezz! I mean to say.’ Peregrine screwed up his face and took another slurp of champagne.
    â€˜Do you know how many people read that T’aime’s column?’ asked Les incredulously.
    Peregrine shrugged. ‘I imagine about the same number who listen to that other oaf on the radio. Not very many at all.’
    â€˜Well, you’re wrong. About half a bloody million a day.’ Peregrine continued to look uninterested. ‘Christ, mate,’ said Les. ‘We’re trying to keep you under wraps, and now half of bloody Sydney knows you’re here.’
    â€˜So?’ shrugged Peregrine again.
    â€˜So! Jesus! Don’t you realise the trouble you’re in? And the trouble we’re going to for you?’ Norton shook his head in exasperation at the indifferent look on Peregrine’s face. ‘What happened, anyway?’
    â€˜It was all quite ridiculous, actually.’ Peregrine reached behind him and topped up his glass with