The Daisy Club Read Online Free PDF Page A

lady.’ Jessica sighed nostalgically, momentarily distracted. ‘Was that before or after she won the Wychford pipe-smoking competition, Branscombe?’
    â€˜As you may remember, Miss Manningham attracted so much publicity for that particular incident, it put paid to her sporting exploits. Whereupon she retired to Scotland and took up whaling, only to return here after an unhappy incident involving some nets, a grand Scottish lady, and a dozen lobsters found hidden in a suitcase. Chutney-making is now the order of the day at Needles House, I believe.’
    â€˜Good gracious, Branscombe, you are a walking encyclopedia of Twistleton news, truly you are,’ Jessica told him in a distracted, yet admiring voice, before nodding towards the distant church spire of St Mary. ‘Well, I suppose the only thing we can now do is to redirect our efforts to the village hall, as per the instructions on the gate.’
    The elegant man took out a gold cigarette case and, having extended it to his companion opposite, took a cigarette from it himself, and lit it.
    â€˜Hosting a dinner party this weekend,’ he said, as they both watched the smoke from their cigarettes drift out of the open window over the London rooftops. ‘Might well get a handle on the two of them, they’re coming over, bringing George Arletti, and un tel .’
    â€˜I think you’ll find it is une telle , one Gloria Martine. We’ve been tagging her since 1934, much good it has done us.’
    His elegant friend gave a short humourless laugh.
    â€˜Much good any of this has done us, my dear chap, but we must soldier on, keep going, nothing else we can do.’
    â€˜It would be easier if we knew just a little of what was going through Chamberlain’s mind.’
    â€˜My dear fellow, the answer to that is truly – nothing. Nothing goes through the mind of a ditherer. No defined principles means that you go in all directions at once, spread yourself thin, and fall through the middle – all at the same time.’
    His companion gave a genuine laugh at this.
    â€˜An apt description of an appeaser, if I may say so. What have you arranged for the weekend?’
    â€˜Apparently Jessica Valentyne is sending me over a quantity of debutantes to dress up as waitresses, who might, now I come to think of it, report back to me, and after that we shall just have to see. The moment the balloon goes up, that little clutch of Fascists, otherwise known as my neighbours, will be thrown into jug, or else I shall want to know the reason why.’
    The speaker stubbed out his cigarette, shook his companion by the hand, and walked with a quick light step from the small sitting room of the nondescript flat, and so out into the summer sunshine. As he walked along he felt, as he always did after such meetings with his contacts in the ever-growing, colossally chaotic security service, distinctly frustrated. The feeling of treading eternal water, of being a greyhound left in the traps, the sheer helplessness of it all, of not quite knowing what could be done, or whether the little they were doing would do any good at all, would sweep over him – and only throwing himself into his motor car, and driving down to his country house just a little too fast, cleared the depression.
    Today he drove if anything even faster, putting it all from him just for that time, and finally arrived at his house feeling better. He had, after all, sought and finally been given a role: that at least was something.
    To her immense surprise, by the time they reached the village hall Jessica found herself and her little party edging past the best crowd that they had yet seen. There must have been thirty or forty villagers, of all ages. Jessica immediately felt heartened. Blossom, understandably cautious, picked up the two dachshunds, and the whole party from the Court made its way up to the front of the hall, where Jessica then took her place at a pre-set