Free The Reginald Perrin Omnibus by David Nobbs Page B

Jimmy.
    ‘That’ll keep the wolf from the door,’ said Jimmy.
    Jimmy offered Mark a lift to the station, and this was accepted.
    ‘Cheerio Tom,’ said Mark. ‘Look after me water.’
    ‘Water?’
    ‘Water blister, sister.’
    Reggie slipped Mark an extra fiver and said, ‘Take care, old thing.’
    ‘Toodle-oo, Reggie,’ said Jimmy. Thanks for the nosh. Don’t work too hard. Don’t want you suddenly kicking the bucket on us.’
    There were great pools of water lying in the gutter, but the pavements had dried. Jimmy drove rapidly.
    Think your father’s overdoing it a bit,’ he said. ‘Mentioned it, tactfully as I could. Fancy the thrust got home.’
    As he pulled up in a large puddle in the station forecourt, Jimmy sent a spurt of water over three schoolgirls and a quantity surveyor.
    The joyous evening sunlight streamed into the living room. Reggie poured another drink.
    ‘It’s cooler tonight,’ he said.
    ‘Yes,’ said Tom. ‘I’m glad. I sweat very freely. I have very open pores.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Linda sweats quite a bit too. She’s got very open pores.’
    ‘I wonder if you’d mind leaving now, Tom. I’ve got a lot of work to do.’
    ‘No, if you’re sure you’ll be . . .’
    ‘I’ll be all right.’
    Reggie escorted Tom into the hall.
    ‘Goodbye, Tom. Don’t forget you’re both coming to dinner on Tuesday night.’
    ‘No. Now you’re sure . . .’
    ‘Yes. Goodbye.’
    Tom drove off. Reggie went out into the garden and lit a bonfire. The whole western sky was aflame. He threw the wedding photos on the fire. Hats curled and blackened. He threw the small-bore rifle team on the fire. Campbell-Lewiston, E.L., curled and blackened. His past went up in smoke, heat and little bits of ash. A bat fluttered weakly round the eaves. There was a screech as Ponsonby caught a mouse.
    Reggie rang Joan, then rang off hurriedly. Her husband might answer, and in any case there was nothing to say.
    The bonfire went out. The flame of the sky grew more and more subtle. The bat screamed, so high that only other bats could hear it. Reggie heard the Milfords going off to the golf club for a snifter, and in the Wisemans’ house someone was learning the piano.
    He rushed upstairs to see if there were any tell-tale traces of Joan. But there weren’t.
    The telephone rang. He answered it in the bedroom. It was Elizabeth.
    ‘Hullo, dear. Are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine.’
    ‘Mother’s going into hospital tomorrow morning. I’ll have to stay.’
    ‘Well, all right, you stay then.’
    ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
    ‘Not in the least.’
    ‘Oh.’
    ‘Well, I mean I mind. But I don’t mind because I know you’ve got to.’
    ‘You’ll be all right?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘The C.J.’s and things are coming on Tuesday.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Perhaps you ought to put them off?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Did you find the food all right?’
    ‘Yes. Mark came.’
    ‘You didn’t lend him anything?’
    ‘Of course not.’
    ‘Only it’s bad for him, in the long run.’
    ‘Yes. And Jimmy called. He’d run out of food again.’
    ‘Again? It’s getting beyond a joke.’
    ‘Have you had the rain?’
    ‘Yes, have you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘If you want cocoa there’s some on the shelf where I keep the hot drinks.’
    ‘Fine.’
    ‘Now you’re sure you’ll be all right?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Don’t leave any windows open when you go to work.’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You’ve fed Ponsonby, have you?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well – I’ll see you when I see you.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Good-bye, darling.’
    ‘Good-bye, darling.’
    Reggie went downstairs and fed Ponsonby. It was almost dark and blessedly cool.
    He made himself a mug of cocoa and stretched out in an armchair. Ponsonby sat on the settee and watched him.
    ‘Hullo, Ponsonby,’ he said.
    Ponsonby purred.
    ‘You know, Ponsonby,’ he said, ‘when I was young I looked with envy at grown-ups. People in their forties were solid, authoritative figures. Not for them