Free John Thomas & Lady Jane by Spike Milligan Page A

proof was he wasn’t there.

Chapter IX
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    C ONSTANCE WAS sorting out a lumber room on the top floor.
She was sorting out the store room. And among the things, carefully wrapped up
to preserve it from wild animals like wolves and bears, there was a charming
cradle. It had such touching proportions so she touched them. It was a cot, a 100-year-old
cot. She was moved. Mrs Bolton just picked her up and moved her somewhere else.
    ‘It seems a pity there isn’t a little
baby to put in it now,’ said Mrs Bolton.
    ‘Yes!’ said Constance vaguely. ‘I
suppose it is.’ She hesitated, before she added: ‘But there may be, you know.’
    ‘Oh, your ladyship, that would be
good news! — But you’re not expecting it, are you?’
    She had a few friends in to tea.
‘Could you believe Lady Chatterley still has hopes of a son and heir?’
    ‘Never!’ cried the women. ‘Why, it’s
impossible with his willy!’
    ‘No, Sir Clifford’s legs are
paralysed, but — ’ and a series of suggestive nods. ‘And you know he’s so much
better! And you can see his strong arms, shoulders and chest. He’s got a
splendid chest.’
    ‘Wonders’ll never cease! It seems you
can all but kill a man, but he’ll be able to do something that way with a
woman.’
    Mr Winter called one afternoon. He
was a well-bred man of sixty-five with appalling halitosis. Clifford spoke to
him from a distance. He had a very keen interest in and talked about coal. They
agreed you found it in the ground, you dug it out and then sold it.
    ‘Oh no, coal isn’t what it used to
be!’
    ‘Oh,’ said Sir Clifford, ‘then what’s
it supposed to be?’
    Mr Winter didn’t answer.
    ‘I hear you might be having a baby,’
said Mr Winter.
    There was a silence, Clifford was
startled, frightened, infuriated, bewildered, and a little flattered, in that
order.
    ‘Well Sir!’ he said, backing away
from his breath. ‘Of course nothing is certain. But we can hope!’
    ‘Oh, but there is hope?’ said Winter
taking a glance at Clifford’s bottom half. Was there any hope in his trousers?
    This man had been a friend of King
Edward and was almost willing to die for the King. So far he hadn’t done so,
why should he?
    One morning Constance was arranging
the flowers in the room.
    ‘I say, Connie, have you heard the
rumour? You’re going to provide Wragby with an heir.’
    She did not start, she had a flat
battery. Then she said, ‘Why, where have you heard such a rumour?’
    ‘From Mr Winter.’
    ‘And what did you say?’ she asked.
    ‘I said, well, because he had bad
breath I asked him to keep his distance.’
    She pondered for a while, for about
half an hour, quite a long ponder. ‘What did you say to Mr Winter?’
    ‘I said you have got bad breath and I
said Constance may be going to have a child.’
    ‘But,’ she said, ‘if I may be going
to have a child, what would you feel?’
    ‘I would feel your stomach,’ said
Clifford.
    Still she thought of Soames. He was
passionate with an underground passion. He preferred to screw down the
coal-mine. She didn’t want to be committed to him but she wanted to go to him.
(Make up your bloody mind, woman!) At the thought of him a flame went through
her bowels. She wanted his children, unfortunately he didn’t have any.
    But he had not touched her heart.
Soames held her with passion and an occasional brace of grouse but nothing and
nobody held her altogether. If it wasn’t for her stays she’d have fallen apart.
    She was thinking of Soames whom she
had not seen for some time. She found a tenderness for him spring up in her
again — doinggg! To see him she had to go outside her own sphere. It was an
excursion just like a cheap day-return to Herne Bay and the desire for an
excursion was coming over her again. She was on the verge of booking a cheap
day-return trip to Herne Bay.
    And when the coal was gone would they
too disappear off the face of the earth? No, they would make their way