The Reginald Perrin Omnibus (34 page)

‘Meant it,’ said Jimmy to Reggie. ‘Sincerest congratulations.’

‘Thanks,’ said Reggie.

‘Reggie, nice chap, bit of an odd-ball. You, steadier, different kettle of fish.’

Thanks,’ said Reggie. ‘How are you finding things in civvy street?’

‘No joy yet,’ said Jimmy. ‘Trying to set up a business. Long job.’

Linda joined them by the fireplace and Jimmy tapped her on the bottom.

‘Can I get you another drink, father?’ she said.

Reggie saw the horror in her eyes as she realized that she had called him ‘father’.

‘Bravo!’ said Jimmy. ‘You called him father!’

‘I hope you didn’t mind,’ said Linda.

‘Not at all,’ said Reggie.

‘She likes you. Half the battle,’ said Jimmy, as Linda fetched herself another drink. ‘Other half could be stickier. Storm cones hoisted.’

He indicated Mark, glowering on the sofa. Reggie moved over to do battle.

‘Mind if I join you?’ he said.

‘Please yourself.’

‘I do hope you’ll come and visit us regularly,’ he said.

‘That depends, doesn’t it?’ said Mark.

‘Yes, I – I suppose it does,’ said Reggie. ‘But anyway I just thought I’d tell you that you’ll always be very welcome.’

‘Ta,’ said Mark. ‘Excuse us, will you?’

‘Yes. Fine. Absolutely. Carry on, please,’ said Reggie.

Tom came and took Mark’s place on the sofa.

‘Congratulations,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ said Reggie.

‘Welcome to the club,’ said Tom. ‘The marriage club, I mean.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’

‘It’s a happy state, matrimony.’

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Reggie.

‘I’m a marriage person,’ said Tom.

‘Your wife’s a lovely girl,’ said Reggie.

‘Lovely. Looks a real picture,’ said Jimmy, who was standing behind the sofa trying not to look as if nobody was talking to him.

Elizabeth went into the kitchen to get some sandwiches.

‘Let me help you,’ said Jimmy. ‘Reinforcements on the solid refreshment front.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Mark.

‘No. I insist,’ said Jimmy.

‘Let Mark go,’ said Elizabeth’s mother.

‘Oh. Penny’s dropped. Secret chinwag. Sorry,’ said Jimmy.

In the kitchen Elizabeth said, ‘I hoped you’d be pleased. I know you didn’t like Henry.’

This one’s better than him,’ admitted Mark. ‘But you know what you’re doing, don’t you?’ He picked up a quarter of chicken sandwich and pulled it systematically to pieces as he spoke. ‘You’re trying to relive your life with father.’

‘You’re probably right,’ said Elizabeth.

‘There’s no need to sound so sarcastic,’ said Mark.

‘I wasn’t meaning to be sarcastic.’

‘Oh no.’

‘I’ll wear a little card that says, “I’m not being sarcastic” if you like.’

‘There you go again. Look, I’m just thinking of you. It’s no skin off my shonk who you marry.’

‘Come on,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Wheel the trolley in. Offer the sandwiches round. And try and smile.’

The moment she had a chance Elizabeth steered Reggie into the corner by the piano and said, ‘Go easy on Mark, Martin. He’s upset.’

‘I don’t intend to bite him,’ said Reggie.

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic,’ said Elizabeth.

‘I’ll put a notice on the garden gate, if you like,’ said Reggie. ‘Mr Martin Wellbourne is now almost free of sarcasm, and irony has not developed. No further bulletins will be issued.’

‘You sound just like Reggie,’ said Elizabeth.

A few words passed between Reggie and his prospective mother-in-law.

‘I suppose I’m old-fashioned, but I must say this is all a bit hasty for decency, in my opinion. Still, you’re not youngsters. You’re old enough to be your father. You know what you’re doing, I suppose. Elizabeth’s my daughter, when all’s said and done, and provided she’s happy, that’s the main thing,’ were the words that passed from his prospective mother-in-law to Reggie.

‘Yes,’ was the word that passed from Reggie to his prospective mother-in-law.

‘I must be off,’ said Mark. ‘I’ve got a day’s filming tomorrow. Only a little part. I play a man who’s been turned into a pig by a mad scientist. I’d better get off home and learn my grunts.’

‘It’s a pity you have to go so early,’ said Reggie.

I think it’s a good thing,’ said Mark. ‘It’ll give you all a chance to discuss me.’

Linda accompanied him to the door.

‘You’re being silly,’ she said. ‘They aren’t going to discuss you. You aren’t that important anyway. You want to grow up.’

‘Yes, that’s right, you’re very grown up,’ said Mark. ‘And you’re being frightfully sensible. Sensible grown-up big sister Linda. You want to watch it. I’m very worried about you, face ache.’

When Linda went back into the living room, they were all discussing Mark. She didn’t listen, she couldn’t listen. Was she being sensible? Was what she was going to do sensible, or was it the most foolish thing she had ever done?

‘I’m going to make some coffee,’ she said.

‘I’ll help,’ said Jimmy.

‘Can I help, squerdlebonce?’ said Tom.

‘No. Mother’ll help, won’t you, mother?’ said Linda.

‘Oh, I see. Chinwag time again. Off you go, nobody’s noticed anything,’ said Jimmy.

Reggie gave Linda a questioning look. She met it blankly. Elizabeth followed her into the kitchen. Everyone sensed the sudden tension.

In the kitchen, Linda said, ‘I don’t know how to put this.’

‘What?’ said Elizabeth, as she filled the kettle.

‘Oh, mother, it’s Martin.’

‘What about him?’ said Elizabeth quietly.

‘He’s not what he seems.’

‘Are you trying to tell me he’s got a past?’

‘Not in that sense, no.’

‘Another wife?’ said Elizabeth, smiling ironically.

‘Not exactly. Oh mother …’

‘Linda darling, I think I know what you’re going to say.’

‘What?’

‘You can fool some of the people some of the time, you can even fool all the people all the time, but you can’t fool a wife.’

‘You mean you know?’

‘S’sh. Keep your voice down. They’ll hear us.’

‘Have you known all along?’

‘Quite a while. Now come on, let’s make that coffee.’

Elizabeth began to get the cups out but Linda didn’t move.

‘I do think you might have told everyone before tonight,’ said Linda.

‘Oh, but I’m not going to tell them.’

‘What?’

‘Hush, dear. Get me the coffee.’

Linda handed her the tin of coffee like an automaton.

‘I think it’s going to work out very well with Martin Wellbourne,’ said Elizabeth.

‘But it’s a lie,’ said Linda.

‘Yes, it’s rather fun, isn’t it?’ said Elizabeth.

‘But, mother …’

‘Oh why do children always have to be so boringly puritan about their parents?’

‘It’s not that, mother, but it’s a ridiculous situation.’

‘If it works, it isn’t ridiculous. This may be hard for your pride, Linda, but just because I’m your mother it doesn’t mean that I’m going to behave like an ageing girl guide.’

‘But what about Mark?’

‘Yes, he’s furious, silly boy. It’s rather funny, isn’t it?’

‘But mother, you’re his mother.’

‘Yes, it’s shocking, isn’t it? Now come on, let’s take this parsnip in.’

‘Parsnip?’

‘Parsnip, coffee. Perrin, Wellbourne. What does it matter what we call things?’

Elizabeth picked up the tray of coffee and moved towards the door.

‘But mother

‘I don’t want any more “but mothers”. Our marriage wasn’t working all that well. Now it is going to work. Now come on, be sensible enough to be silly.’

‘But, mother …’

‘Linda, you wouldn’t do me out of my wedding day, would you? It’s the greatest day in a woman’s life. And think of the honeymoon. You wouldn’t want me to miss the romantic experience of a lifetime. And then there are the presents. I can’t wait to open all the presents. I do hope you and Tom are going to give us something really exciting.’

Linda gave up, and they took the coffee in, and Jimmy said, ‘That was a chinwag and a half,’ and Reggie raised his eyebrows at Linda and she shook her head and Elizabeth said, ‘We’ve been talking presents,’ and Elizabeth’s mother said, ‘You must make a list. It may not be so romantic, but it avoids duplication, that’s what I always say,’ and Reggie said, ‘Oh this is nice. I feel as if I’ve known you all for a long time,’ and Tom said, ‘That’s what life’s all about. People. We’re people people,’ and Jimmy said, ‘Word in your ear, old girl. Bit of a cock-up on the old c.f. All scraps and swillage gratefully received,’ and Linda remembered that they’d brought a bottle of wine and forgotten it, and Tom fetched it and they toasted the happy couple in fig wine, and Tom told a story which nobody understood, but they laughed, and went home happy, and that’s about it, really.

Epilogue

The February gale, sweeping in off the English Channel, caused a portion of chimney cowling to crash through the kitchen window of Constable Barker’s flat. At the time Constable Barker was dropping a fivepenny piece into a large glass pickling jar. When he had enough fivepenny pieces he would set off for his holiday in the Argentine.

The same gale caused a plastic bag to get caught round the exhaust of a Rentokil van in Matthew Arnold Avenue, Climthorpe, at the exact moment when Reggie and Elizabeth were driving past on their way to the crematorium.

There was only one other car in the car park, yet Elizabeth parked right alongside it.

They walked slowly towards the crematorium building. Pollarded limes cringed before the probing wind. Decaying leaves chased each other half-heartedly across the sodden lawns, which were pocked with slivers of earth cast up by worms. There was a hole coming in Reggie’s left shoe.

They entered the building. Reggie’s reinforced steel-tipped heels rang out on the tiled floor.

They walked down a long corridor. On either side were rows of drawers in varnished wood, with brass handles. At intervals there were semi-circular recesses with urns in them.

‘They call it the Garden of Remembrance, even though it’s indoors,’ said Elizabeth.

‘The Corridor of Remembrance wouldn’t sound right,’ said Reggie.

At the end of the corridor, Elizabeth stopped.

‘I didn’t have any ashes,’ she said. She took hold of one of the brass handles, and pulled out the drawer. Inside was Reggie’s briefcase, engraved with his initials, ‘R.I.P’ in gold.

She opened the briefcase and removed the contents. There were Reggie’s gold cuff links, his red bedroom slippers, a certificate sent by the king to every schoolboy during the Second World War, a photograph of Reggie in the Ruttingstagg College Small-Bore Rifle Team, a wedding photo, a photo of him as Brutus in the Sunshine Desserts production of
Julius Caesar,
and his old hairbrush, also engraved, in gold, ‘R.I.P.’.

‘He’d have appreciated that,’ said Elizabeth.

They stared at the display in silence for a few moments. Then Elizabeth put everything back in the briefcase and slid the drawer back into position.

They set off down the corridor, arm in arm.

Elizabeth glanced at him out of the corner of her smiling, mischievous eyes.

‘Why!’ she said. ‘I do believe you’re crying.’

The Return of
Reginald Perrin

For Mary

Book One

Chapter 1

‘You are happy, aren’t you, Martin?’ said Elizabeth.

‘Wonderfully happy,’ said Reggie.

It was a Monday morning in March, and the sky was crying gently on to the Poets’ Estate.

Elizabeth was reading the paper. Reggie, conveniently for new readers, was reflecting upon the strange events that had led him to this pass – how he had disappeared after life at Sunshine Desserts had become intolerable, how he had left his clothes on a beach in Dorset in imitation of suicide, how he had wandered in many disguises and finally returned to his own memorial service as a fictional old friend called Martin Wellbourne, how as Martin Wellbourne he had remarried his lovely wife Elizabeth and gone back to Sunshine Desserts to run the Reginald Perrin Memorial Foundation.

‘Briefcase,’ said Elizabeth, handing him his black leather briefcase, engraved with his initials, M.S.W., in gold. How he wished it still said ‘R.I.P.’.

‘Thanks, my little sweetheart,’ he said, because when he was Reggie he would have said: ‘Thank you, darling.’

‘Umbrella,’ said Elizabeth, handing him an object which amply justified her choice of word.

‘Thanks, my little sweetheart,’ he said.

He didn’t adjust his tie in the mirror, because that’s what he would have done when he was Reggie.

A telephone engineer was climbing out of a hole in Coleridge Close.

‘I hate Martin Wellbourne,’ said Reggie suddenly, and the man lurched backwards into the hole.

Reggie walked down Coleridge Close, turned right into Tennyson Avenue, then left into Wordsworth Drive, and down the snicket into Station Road. His legs seemed to resent the measured tread and large steps of his Martin Wellbourne walk. It was as if they were saying to him: ‘Come off it, Reggie. How long is this pantomime going to last?’

How long indeed?

He stood at his usual place on the platform, beside the sand-filled fire bucket, because when he was Reggie he had stood in front of the door marked: ‘Isolation Telephone’.

The eight sixteen drew up nine minutes lace.

He didn’t do the crossword on the train, because that’s what Reggie would have done.

He entered the characterless box that housed Sunshine Desserts. The clock, which had been stuck at three forty-six since 1967, had recently been mended. Now it had stuck at nine twenty-seven.

He smiled at the receptionist with the puce fingernails, grimaced at the new sign which proudly announced: ‘Sunshine Desserts – one big happy family’, and walked up. three flights of stairs because the lift was out of order.

He entered his drab little office with its green filing cabinets, and smiled at his secretary Joan, but he didn’t throw his umbrella towards the hat-stand, because that was what Reggie would have done.