Early One Morning Read Online Free PDF Page A

his younger brother.’
    ‘Older brother,’ corrected Robert, poking Maurice in the ribs.
    ‘Just a second,’ said Maurice. Maurice arranged himself on the side of the car and there was a flash and detonation.
    ‘Now, can I get out?’ asked Robert.
    Maurice moved out of the way and pushed the crowd back. Robert eased himself out of the cockpit and swung his legs out. As his feet hit the ground a powerful column of pain shot up his limbs, exploding in his cerebrum and expelling all consciousness as he slumped into his brother’s arms.
    Williams had to repeat the trick of carrying the two women over the muddy field although now they were full of champagne it was rather trickier, as both kept wriggling.
    ‘Keep still. I might drop you, Miss,’ he said to Eve, trying not to think about the lithe body—or the rustling silk chemise—under the velvet dress.
    ‘And then Orpsie will sack you for sullying his little Evie. “Gee, honey,” he will say, “did Willie boy hurt my little peach?”’ She smiled and Williams wondered about letting her fall into the gloop anyway. The baby talk that Orpen affected was irritating at the best of times, but recently he had begun to sprinkle it with Americanisms. The constant stream of writers, journalists, negro dancers and jazz musicians appearing in Paris had made US slang the affectation of the year. There were rumoured to be fifty thousand Yanks in total, and they appeared to be in the habit of all turning up in the same place at the same time. The attraction was obvious—a devalued franc gave them twenty-five to a dollar, and the very idea of prohibition was anathema to the French.
    Eventually both women were installed, more or less stain-free, in the rear of the car and Williams slammed the door on them. He started the engine, set the advance-retard, selected a higher gear than normal and eased the Rolls out of the muddy grooves it had settled into. Eve spoke in a loud voice, making sure it carried through to the driver’s compartment.
    ‘I’m sorry you didn’t get a man, Sylvie.’
    ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m going off them anyway. Present company excepted.’
    They giggled and Williams glanced in the mirror to see if they were talking about him.
    ‘Oh, never with the staff, darling,’ insisted Eve, wrinkling her nose.
    ‘Why ever not?’
    ‘Because you never know where they have been.’
    Williams had negotiated the worst of the mud and was easing on to the metalled section of the car park, now full of cars being cranked and pushed.
    Eve continued in a yet louder voice. ‘He turned up six months ago. No references to speak of. Couldn’t use a knife and fork properly. Wasn’t even a very good driver—’
    Williams floored the big beast and the giant engine responded with astonishing liveliness. The Rolls leapt forward, and Williams began to swerve through the crowd streaming out of the stadium, fishtailing as the wheels flicked up a spray of sharp stones. Eve and Sylvie fell together in a heap in the back, squealing with a mixture of fear and delight.
    Clear of the people, Williams began to fling the machine harder, and there was another loud exclamation as limbs tangled and dresses rode up, to reveal elasticated silk garters. Williams glanced into the rear-view mirror as often as he dared. He managed to spin a one-eighty-degree turn and head for the exit when, from the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of blue bodywork and stamped on the brakes, rotating the wheel as hard as he could until the Rolls broadsided, two wheels lifting off the ground, leaving several tons of metal perched daintily on two tyres before it flopped back down and buried itself deep into the gravel.
    The Citroën with the fold-back roof slowly pulled level. Williams recognised the driver, Maurice Benoist, and felt himself redden when he saw his brother in the passenger seat, two bandaged feet on the dashboard.
    It was the latter who leaned across and wagged a finger at Williams. ‘Who do