Ice in the Bedroom Read Online Free PDF Page A

relation?'
    'My uncle.'
    'You don't say? You don't look like him.'
    'No,' said Freddie, who would have hated to. There was nothing in the appearance of his uncle Rodney that appealed to his aesthetic sense.
    'Do you brim over with a nephew's love for him?'
    'I wouldn't say "brim over" exactly.'
    'No objection, then, to my calling him an old poop?'
    'None whatever,' said Freddie, warming to the woman as he seldom warmed to one of the opposite sex over the age of twenty-five. There was no question in his mind that he and Leila Yorke were twin souls. 'As a matter of fact, your words are music to my ears. "Old poop" sums him up to a nicety.'
    She blew a meditative smoke ring, her thoughts plainly back in the past.
    'I was engaged to him once.'
    'Really?'
    'Broke it off, though, when he started to bulge at every seam. Couldn't keep that boy off the starchy foods. I don't mind a poop being a poop, but I draw the line at a poop who looks like two poops rolled into one.'
    'Quite. Have you seen him lately?'
    'Not for a year or so. Is he as fat as ever?'
    'He came out top in the Fat Uncles contest at the Drones last summer.'
    'I'm not surprised. Mark you, I'd have broken the engagement anyway, because soon after we plighted our troth Joe Bishop came along.'
    'Joe Bishop?'
    'Character I subsequently married. We split up later, and I've been kicking myself ever since. Silliest thing I ever did, to let him go. You married?'
    'No.'
    'What are you screwing up your face for?'
    'Did I screw up my face?'
    'I got that impression. As if in anguish.'
    'I'm sorry.'
    'Quite all right. It's your face. Well, well, it's strange to think that if Joe hadn't come into my life and your uncle had done bending and stretching exercises and learned the knack of laying off sweets, butter and potatoes, you might now be calling me Aunt Bessie.'
    ‘Leila, you mean.'
    'No, I don't. Leila Yorke's my pen name. I was born Elizabeth Binns. You can't write books if you're a Binns. But let's go on roasting your uncle. You don't seem very fond of him.'
    'Not at the moment. He has incurred my displeasure.’
    'How was that?'
    Freddie quivered a little. He always quivered when he thought of his Uncle Rodney's black act. 'He sold me down the river to Shoesmith.'
    'Don't you like working for him?'
    'No.'
    'I wouldn't myself. How is Johnny Shoesmith these days?'
    Hearing the Frankenstein's monster who employed him alluded to in this fashion shook Freddie to his depths. A vision of himself calling that eminent solicitor Johnny rose before his eyes, and he shuddered strongly. It was only after some moments that he was able to reply.
    'Oh, he's fizzing along.'
    'I've known him since we were both so high.'
    'Really?'
    'He once kissed me behind a rhododendron bush.'
    Freddie started. 'Shoesmith did?'
    'Yes.'
    'You mean Shoesmith of Shoesmith, Shoesmith, Shoesmith and Shoesmith of Lincoln's Inn Fields?’
     'That's right.'
    'Well, I'll be a son of a…I mean, how very extraordinary!'
    'Oh, he was a regular devil in those days. And look at him now. All dried up like a kippered herring and wouldn't kiss Helen of Troy if you brought her to him asleep in a chair with a sprig of mistletoe suspended over her. That's what comes of being a solicitor, it saps the vital juices. Johnny doesn't even embezzle his clients' money, which I should have thought was about the only fun a solicitor can get out of life. How long have you been working for him?'
    'Six months or so.'
    'You haven't dried up yet.'
    'No.'
    'Well, be careful you don't. Exercise ceaseless vigilance. And talking of drying up, you're probably in need of a quick one after your journey. Care for something moist?'
    'I'd love it.'
    'I've only got whisky, brandy, gin, beer, sherry, port, curacao and champagne, but help yourself. Over there in the fridge in the corner.'
    'Oh, thanks. You?'
    'Why, yes, I think I might. I've been feeling a little nervous and fragile these last few days. Open a bottle of champagne.'
    'Right,' said