The Reginald Perrin Omnibus (50 page)

Reggie and C.J. met for lunch at one o’clock in the Euripides Greek Restaurant. It boasted green flock wallpaper and gold light fittings.

‘I always knew you’d do well in the end, Reggie,’ said C.J., as they munched olives in the tiny bar. ‘The early bird catches the worm, eh?’

‘Every time, C.J.,’ said Reggie.

‘Sooner or later,’ said C.J.

‘Exactly,’ said Reggie.

‘Mrs C.J. and I are absolutely delighted. I said to her only yesterday, “I am absolutely delighted with Reggie Perrin’s success,” and she said, “So am I, C.J. I am absolutely delighted with Reggie Perrin’s success.” So you see, Reggie, we are both absolutely delighted with your success.’

‘Thank you, C.J.’

‘I’m embarrassing you, Reggie.’

‘Not at all, C.J.’

‘Good morning, gentlemen, we have lovely sucking pig,’ said the swarthy restaurateur.

‘No thank you,’ said Reggie, feeling an affection for Mr Pelham’s porkers in retrospect which had not been possible at the time.

‘Something to drink, gentlemen? Some ouzo, perhaps?’

‘Dry sherry,’ said C.J.

When they had their dry sherries, C.J. toasted Reggie’s success.

‘To you and your lovely wife,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ said Reggie.

‘Margaret, isn’t it?’ said C.J.

‘Elizabeth,’ said Reggie.

‘Sorry,’ said C.J. ‘I’m rotten with names.’

Reggie smiled. He knew that Elizabeth would laugh when he told her that C.J. had forgotten her name.

‘How’s Mrs C.J.?’ he asked, waking belatedly to his social responsibilities.

C.J. sighed deeply.

‘Extremely well,’ he said. ‘We were playing your latest game with no rules last evening. We’ve worked out some rather ingenious rules, although they do utilize the lighthouse and the nuclear power station rather more effectively than the Ilamas.’

‘A lot of people have had that trouble,’ said Reggie.

The glass-topped tables were very low and their chairs reclined backwards, giving unusual prominence to C.J.’s knees. Reggie had never noticed before how large they were.

‘How are things at Sunshine Desserts?’ he said.

‘We’ve entered upon a slight wobble,’ said C.J. ‘I didn’t get where I am today without knowing a slight wobble when I’m entering it.’

‘I imagine not, C.J.’

‘But it is purely temporary. Next week we’re launching our new fruit blancmanges. I’m prepared to stick my neck out and state categorically that they will take the nation by storm.’

‘That’s good news, C.J.,’ said Reggie.

Their table was ready. C.J. emerged from his chair with difficulty and they made their way into the restaurant.

‘I was surprised when you paid me the loan back,’ said C.J. over their kebabs.

‘Why should you be surprised?’ said Reggie. ‘I always pay loans back.’

‘Yes, but this wasn’t exactly a loan, was it?’

‘I’m sorry, C.J. What exactly was it, then?’

‘Let’s not beat about the bush,’ said C.J. ‘We weren’t born yesterday.’

Reggie waved an admonitory gobbet of lamb at C.J.

‘Please tell me exactly what you’re talking about,’ he said.

‘I’m a gentleman, Reggie,’ said C.J. ‘I regard it as bad form to pay a blackmail ransom back, especially with eight and a half per cent interest. I know you’re doing well. You don’t have to humiliate me to prove it.’

‘Blackmail?’ said Reggie. ‘Blackmail?’

‘It was blackmail, wasn’t it?’ said C.J.

‘It most certainly was not. I’ve never blackmailed anyone in my life. Good God. I see now why you gave it so readily.’

Reggie roared with laughter. Everyone in the restaurant looked at them. The head-waiter hurried up and poured more wine.

‘What was I supposed to be blackmailing you about?’ said Reggie.

‘The . . . er . . . my . . . er . . . my little peccadillo with . . . er . . . the Dalmatian princess,’ said C.J.

‘Dalmatian princess?’ said Reggie.

‘The one I met in Godalming.’

‘I had no idea,’ said Reggie, between laughs.

‘I was led on,’ said C.J. ‘You know what these Dalmatian princesses are.’

‘No,’ said Reggie. ‘Actually I don’t. What are these Dalmatian princesses?’

After lunch Reggie went back to Sunshine Desserts with C.J., and called on Tony Webster. It gave him an excuse to see Joan.

Tony was delighted to see him. He had quite a plush office, with three abstract paintings and a cocktail cabinet.

‘You’re doing amazingly well, Reggie,’ he said, indicating with his arm that Reggie sit in a huge armchair provided for just such an eventuality.

‘I can’t grumble.’

‘Great. Everyone here knew what you were made of.’

‘Thank you, Tony.’

‘Brandy?’

‘Thank you. I can see that you’re doing well, too.’

‘Amazing. Fantastic. I’m really into the executive bit nowadays. I’m a changed man, Reggie. I’m into security and responsibility and all that crap.’

‘I’m happy for you. How are things at Sunshine Desserts?’

‘Going from strength to strength. This is success city.’

‘Good. Marvellous.’

Tony handed Reggie an excessively large brandy.

‘Where’s Joan?’ said Reggie.

Tony made no reply.

‘Where’s Joan?’ repeated Reggie.

‘She’s left,’ said Tony.

‘Oh. Happy event?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’

Tony sat side-saddle on his desk.

‘We got married,’ he said. ‘Honeymooned on the Italian Riviera. I thought it would be traditional without being clichéd.’

‘How was it?’

‘Sewage city. The hotel had a private beach next to the outlet pipe. Joan and I were great. Fantabulous. Honestly, Reggie, it was like there had never been anybody else, know what I mean?’

‘Yes, Tony, I know what you mean.’

‘Then I went off with this Finnish chick. Joan found out. Exit one marriage. End of story.’

‘I see. I . . . er . . . I see.’

There was a pause. Reggie sipped his brandy and waited for Tony to speak.

‘Joan’s left here,’ he said at last. ‘We thought it was best.’

‘I see. And what about . . . er . . .?’

‘The Helsinki raver? I imagine it’s raving its little arse off in Helsinki. The whole thing’s changed me, I can tell you. It’s made me grow up. You know what it was like with me, Reggie. Trendsville, USA. Not any more. That’s dull city.’

Reggie refused the offer of some more brandy, but Tony had some.

‘So is there no possibility of a reconciliation between you and Joan?’

‘No way. But no way. We were both on the rebound anyway. You remember my dolly bird with no tits?’

‘I remember a rather lovely blonde. I didn’t particularly remark the absence of mammaries.’

‘Well anyway I was on the rebound from her, and Joan was on the rebound from . . . Joan was on the rebound as well. How’s David Harris-Jones settling in?’

‘Very well.’

‘Great. Still saying “super” all the time, is he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Great.’

Reggie stood up. It was time to go.

‘Where is Joan now?’ he said.

‘She’s working for the Glycero Ointment Company in Godalming.’

‘Good God.’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason.’

Tony moved round his desk and sat in his chair, as if he was now ready for official business.

‘Sit down a moment, Reggie,’ he said.

Reggie sat down.

‘There’s one thing I ought to tell you, Reggie. Perhaps I shouldn’t.’

‘Don’t then.’

‘No. I won’t. It was the last night of our honeymoon.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it.’

‘No. We were having it off and it was making everything we’d done before look like a fashion show for Mothercare.’

‘I’m sure I don’t want to hear it.’

‘And she moaned, “Oh Reggie, Reggie.” Just that.’

There was a long silence.

‘I can’t think of anything to say,’ said Reggie.

‘I just thought I ought to tell you.’

‘Thanks, Tony.’

‘Just a piece of advice, Reggie, man to man. That one is very mixed up. But I mean mixed up. It could be very bad news.’

‘Thank you, Tony,’ said Reggie, standing up again.

‘I’d give it a wide berth if I were you.’

They shook hands.

‘Mind you, marrying it was the best thing I ever did,’ said Tony ‘OK, it didn’t work out, but it’s made me grow up.’

As soon as he got back to the office, Reggie asked Miss Erith to get Joan.

‘Mrs Webster on yellow,’ said Miss Erith.

‘Hello, Joan,’ said Reggie.

‘Hello, Reggie.’

‘How are you?’

‘Surviving.’

‘I wondered if we could have lunch one day.’

‘Lunch is difficult,’ said Joan. ‘Evenings are better. I could meet you one evening after work. There’s a nice pub on the Hog’s Back called the Dissipated Kipper.’

‘Thursday next week?’ said Reggie, not wanting to seem too keen.

‘Why not? I must go now. Here comes my boss. I’ll look forward to it, Reggie. Bye.’

Next he dialled Doc Morrissey, whose number he had been given by C.J., and asked him if he could call round at twelve on the following Tuesday. Doc Morrissey consulted his empty diary and said that he could.

There was a soft, uncertain knock on the door.

‘Come in, David,’ said Reggie.

David Harris-Jones tiptoed in cautiously.

‘Sorry to barge in,’ he said. ‘I wondered if you’d like to check the memo I’m sending to Design about the harmless pills and powders and suppositories.’

Reggie looked it over briefly.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘A minor masterpiece of succinct exposition. I’ve just seen your old sparring partner Tony Webster.’

‘How is he?’

‘Great.’

‘Super. Still saying “great” all the time, is he?’

‘Yes.’

‘Super.’

The older he gets, the younger he talks.’

‘How are things at Sunshine Desserts?’

‘Great.’

‘Super. Prue and I are looking forward to this evening, Reggie.’

‘Why? What are you doing?’

David Harris-Jones looked rather puzzled, then laughed half-heartedly.

Pools of sodium were reflected on the glistening pavements of the Poets’ Estate as Reggie walked home. The rain that had swept dramatically in from the Atlantic now dripped lifelessly from the street lamps into the gutters.

He walked along Station Road, up the snicket, up Wordsworth Drive, turned right into Tennyson Avenue, then left into Coleridge Close. The curtains in the living-rooms of the spacious houses were closed upon scenes of domestic calm.

Reggie wondered if his curtains would be closed upon a scene of domestic calm when he informed Elizabeth that he was offering Joan the post of his secretary, instead of Miss Erith.

Perhaps he would say nothing, in case it never happened.

No, it would be even worse if he only broached the subject after he had seen Joan. He must raise it tonight.

The house was warm and cosy. The smokeless fuel glowed merrily in the grate.

‘You haven’t forgotten that Tom and Linda are coming to dinner?’ said Elizabeth.

‘Oh my God, I had.’

‘And Jimmy.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘And Jimmy’s new woman.’

‘Oh my God.’

Jimmy, his divorce to Sheila still warm, had announced his engagement to a lady named Lettuce Horncastle.

‘And the David Harris-Joneses.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘I am telling you that we are to spend the evening with several dearly beloved members of our family, and all you can do is say “Oh my God”.’

‘I’m sorry, darling. But why on earth if it’s a family do are we having the Harris-Jones’s?’

‘Because in your friendly sociable way you said: “We may as well get them all over together”.’

‘I’m not unsociable,’ said Reggie, pouring himself a rather large whisky. ‘I like people. I just don’t like dinner parties. Ah, so that’s why David Harris-Jones said he was looking forward to this evening? I thought it was a comment on his sex life.’

‘He won’t be having much of that. Prue’s very pregnant. I told you all about it this morning, but you never listen to a word I say.’

Elizabeth had some final preparations to do so they went into the kitchen.

‘Can I help?’ said Reggie, eager to soften Elizabeth up for the conversation about Joan.

‘You can prepare the fennel.’

‘I don’t know how to prepare fennel,’ said Reggie.

‘Well you can do the sprouts. You know how to do them.’ Reggie began to do the sprouts.

‘I’m thinking of employing Joan Greengross,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ said Elizabeth. ‘What as?’

‘My secretary.’

‘Very nice for you.’

‘Yes it would be. She’s very efficient.’

‘Oh good.’

‘You aren’t annoyed are you?’ said Reggie, making unnecessarily savage cuts in a tiny Bedfordshire sprout.

‘No. Why should I be?’ said Elizabeth.

‘Exactly,’ said Reggie.

‘I thought you had a secretary,’ said Elizabeth.

‘She’s hopeless.’

‘Not as much fun as Joan?’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Reggie, hurling a handful of sprouts at the wall, where they bounced harmlessly against the ‘Glory of the Lakes’ calendar.

‘I see now why you don’t want me working there,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Now it’s becoming clear.’

‘This isn’t the time to talk about it,’ said Reggie, getting down on his hands and knees to retrieve the sprouts.

‘How typical of a man,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You start the subject and then when I get upset, it’s the wrong time to talk about it.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it,’ said Reggie.

He got to his feet again and placed the sprouts back on the table.

‘I want to come and work with you,’ said Elizabeth.

‘You can’t be my secretary.’

‘I don’t want to be your secretary. I want to be your partner.’

They’ll be here soon, darling.’

‘Let them come. I want an office of my own, a job of my own and a starting date.’

‘Darling, they’ll be here any minute.’

‘Let them ring. There’ll be no dinner tonight unless you agree.’

‘That’s an ultimatum.’

‘Yes.’

‘I won’t negotiate under pressure.’

Elizabeth took off her ‘Save The Children’ apron.

‘You can start the first Monday in January,’ he said.