Free 1982 - An Ice-Cream War by William Boyd

dinner suit. Charles was a thin child with sad eyes and a weak chin. He had inherited none of his father’s potent geniality.
    “Where on earth do you think you’re going?” Felix demanded, impeding Charles’s progress down the corridor.
    “To dinner, Uncle Felix.”
    “Dinner? Children don’t eat dinner now.”
    “Oh but Grandmama said tonight we could. All of us together. Seeing as it’s the wedding tomorrow.”
    Felix raised his eyebrows. “Hattie and Dora too?”
    “Yes.”
    This was intolerable. “Good God! All right, you go on down.” Charles left in a rush. Felix lit a cigarette, allowing Charles time to get downstairs well before it was time to make his entrance.

    The inner hall was the most comfortable room in the house. It was large and high-ceilinged and more frequently used than any other. The walls were panelled in light oak and cretonne-covered armchairs and sofas were grouped in front of a sizeable fireplace with inglenooks. The floor was parquetine and scattered with Indian rugs. It was set to one side of the house, wedged in, as it were, between the original building and the new additions. A leaded window looked out onto the drive and the kitchen extensions.
    Most of the Cobb family were present when Felix entered, one hand in a pocket, the other holding his cigarette nonchalantly at waist height. Dora and Hattie sat in one corner wearing frilly lace dresses and accompanied by their governess. They were very quiet and well-behaved. In a large group by the fireplace sat his mother, Yseult and Albertine. Ranged before the chimney-piece were the men: Gabriel, Sammy Hinshelwood, Greville Verschoyle and Lt Col. Hyams, the last of whom was laughing very loudly, one hand clamped on the shoulder of his miserable son who stood at his side, head bowed as if expecting a blow. Scanning the room Felix noted the absence of Cressida—who was presumably supervising the serving of dinner—the Nigel Bathes and his father.
    His mother was the first to notice his arrival.
    “Felix, darling,” she said, rising to her feet. “Come and sit down. You must be tired after your swim.” She advanced to take his arm, as if he were some kind of invalid or partially blind. “Should you be smoking?” She added as an afterthought.
    “Felix,” Albertine cried. “Smoking. Do you mind?”
    “It’s all right, Mother,” he said, gently releasing his elbow from her grip. “I’ll stand with the men.” He hoped the irony in his tone was evident: he was going to assert his personality tonight come what may. He greeted those members of his family whom he had not yet seen and politely answered a few questions about leaving school and going to Oxford.
    “Felix,” Henry Hyams called. “Sherry? Can he have a sherry, Mrs Cobb, now he’s old enough to smoke? Ha-wha-wha!”
    Felix helped himself to a sherry from one of the crystal decanters that stood on a table near the window, trying to ignore his brother-in-law’s imbecile hilarity. There was gin, brandy, whisky and a soda siphon, but he thought he’d better not go too far too quickly. He rejoined the group by the fire.
    “Sorry to have deposed you as best man, Felix,” Sammy Hinshelwood said. He was a fair-looking young man with a small moustache and a receding hairline. He held one hand behind his back as if standing at ease on a parade ground.
    Felix sipped his sherry. “Don’t worry about it.” he said, darting a glance at Gabriel, who was talking to Henry Hyams. “I was only first reserve anyway. Good that you could get on leave.”
    “Yes,” Hinshelwood said. “It was short notice, but I’m glad I’m around to see Gabbers getting spliced at last.”
    “Sorry. Gabbers?” Felix said disingenuously.
    “Gabbers. Old Gabbers over there. Your bro. Cap’n Cobb, no less.”
    “Oh, Gabbers . Yes.” Felix turned to his mother. “Any sign of the Nigel Bathes, Mother?”
    “Yes, darling. They arrived half an hour ago. They’re getting