The Gatecrasher Read Online Free PDF Page A

she and Johnny would go to hear Felix singing Evensong at St. Paul’s Cathedral or Westminster Abbey, and would see him solemnly processing and bowing in his white frills. More rarely, they would see him attired in tails, singing in a performance of Handel’s
Messiah
or Bach’s
St. Matthew Passion
.
    Fleur didn’t enjoy the sound of Felix’s voice, and found the
St. Matthew Passion
very boring indeed. But she always sat in the front row and applauded vigorously and joined Johnny in his cries of “Bravo!” Because Fleur owed Felix a great deal. Memorial services, she could find out about from the papers—but it was Felix who always knew about the funerals. If he wasn’t singing at them himself, he knew someone who was. And it was at the smaller, more intimate funerals that Fleur had always done best.
    When Felix saw her reflection he gave a little jump, and stopped singing.
    “Not really my range,” he shouted over the music. “A bit low for me. How was the memorial service?”
    “Fine!” shouted Fleur. She went over to the CD player and turned the volume down. “Fine,” she repeated. “Quite promising. I’m having lunch with Mr. Favour tomorrow.”
    “Oh well done!” said Felix. “I was going to tell you about a funeral we’re doing tomorrow. Rather nice; they’ve asked for ‘Hear My Prayer.’ But if you’re fixed up . . .”
    “You’d better tell me anyway,” said Fleur. “I’m not entirely convinced about this Favour family. I’m not sure there’s any money.”
    “Oh really?”
    “Terrible hats.”
    “Hmm. Hats aren’t everything.”
    “No.”
    “What did Johnny say about them?”
    “What did Johnny say about what?” Johnny’s high voice came through the doorway. “Careful, you oaf! In there. Yes. On the table.”
    A man in overalls entered the room and placed on the table a large object, shrouded in brown paper.
    “Let me see!” exclaimed Johnny. He began to tear the paper off in strips.
    “A candelabra,” said Fleur. “How nice.”
    “It’s an epergne,” corrected Johnny. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    “Clever little me,” said Felix. “To find such a gorgeous thing.”
    “I bet it cost a fortune,” said Fleur sulkily. “You could have given that money to a good cause, you know.”
    “Like you? I don’t think so.” Johnny took out a handkerchief and began to polish the epergne. “If you want money so badly, why did you leave the lovely Sakis?”
    “He wasn’t lovely. He was an overbearing bully. He used to order me about, and shout at me . . .”
    “. . . and buy you suits from Givenchy.”
    “I know,” said Fleur regretfully. “But I couldn’t stand him for one more moment. And besides, he wouldn’t give me a Gold Card.” She shrugged. “So there was no point.”
    “Why any of these men ever give you a credit card is quite beyond me,” said Felix.
    “Yes,” said Fleur. “Well, it would be, wouldn’t it?”
    “Touché,”
said Felix cheerfully.
    “But you did pretty well out of him, didn’t you?” said Johnny.
    “Little bits, here and there. Some cash. But not enough.” Fleur sighed, and lit a cigarette. “What a bloody waste of time.”
    “That’ll be a pound in the swear box, thank you,” said Felix at once. Fleur rolled her eyes and felt in her bag for her purse. She looked up.
    “Can you change a fifty-pound note?”
    “Probably,” said Felix. “Let me look in the box.”
    “You know, Fleur,” said Johnny, still polishing, “your little bits and pieces probably add up to what most people call a fortune.”
    “No they don’t,” said Fleur.
    “How much have you got stashed away now?”
    “Not enough.”
    “And how much is enough?”
    “Oh Johnny, stop quizzing me!” said Fleur irritably. “It’s all your fault. You told me Sakis would be a pushover.”
    “I told you nothing of the sort. I merely told you that according to my sources he was a multimillionaire and emotionally vulnerable. Which turned out to be absolutely