Australian which failed to sully the reputation of a truly great Englishmanâ. Ruby was outragedââthose stupid, pig-ignorant, ill-informed, melon-headedâ¦ââbut Gerald didnât care what the papers said about him. Sir Mason Green was gone. That was all that mattered.
A flurry of activity overtook life in the Chelsea townhouse. Geraldâs mother, even busier than usual, was organising a party. âThereâs no use having a ballroom if you donât use it,â Vi said to Gerald. âNow that your father and I have returned to London, itâs the perfect opportunity to make our presence felt.â Invitations had gone out. More than two hundred guests were expected. Decorations had been ordered, flowers arranged, menus planned.
In the days leading up to the big night, Geraldâs father did his best to keep out of the way, spending most of the time at the cricket at Lordâs. Gerald was keen to follow his fatherâs example. So when the telephone rang the morning of the party and it was Ruby, he was happy to accept any suggestion that would get him out of the house. Evenâ
âShopping?â Gerald said.
âYouâve got something better to do?â Ruby asked.
Gerald looked at his mother. She and Mr Fry were going over the dinner plans. A sheaf of menus and seating charts covered the kitchen table. From the expression on Viâs face, she could have been planning the invasion of Europe.
âWhere do you want to meet?â Gerald said into the phone. âAnd can we make it really, really soon?â
Oxford Street was alive with shoppers. The late summer that had warmed London that year was still bringing smiles to the cityâs inhabitants, and they were making the most of the final days before the first chill winds of autumn blew in.
At the back of a restaurant, on a side street away from the colourful shopfronts and the crowds, Gerald, Sam and Ruby sat in a booth. A mountain of shopping bags lay at their feet. After hours of shopping and planning, they were exhausted.
The remnants of a meal of burgers, chips and milkshakes were spread across the table. Sam belched. âNot up to Mrs Rutherfordâs standards,â he said, rubbing his belly, âbut it filled a hole.â He let out a satisfied sigh.
Ruby turned to Gerald. âI think itâs a brilliant ideaâa week camping in the Lake District sounds perfect. Iâll ask our parents, but Iâm sure weâll be able to come.â
Gerald nudged his foot against the pile of shopping bags under the table. âYou better come,â he said. âOr Iâve just bought a tonne of camping gear for nothing.â
Sam groaned. âI canât believe we have to go back to school so soon. This holidayâs flown by.â
âHave your parents decided about school for you yet, Gerald?â Ruby asked. âAre you going back to Sydney?â
âTheyâre talking about boarding school,â Gerald said. âBut until they make up their minds, Iâm on holiday.â
In fact, life for Gerald without the spectre of Sir Mason Green hovering over him was looking pretty good. Heâd already placed an order for a customised snowboard and had convinced his mother to fly his friend Ox over from Sydney for a snow holiday the following January. âIâm fairly sure Geraldine kept a chalet in Klosters,â Vi had said. âPossibly even two. Iâll ask Mr Priskâit is so hard to keep up with the details.â She had clasped Geraldâs face in her hands and given his cheeks an extra tweak. âYou are my special little man,â sheâd cooed. âWalter says we have to take extra special care of you. He says youâre the reinforced slab that I need to build my life upon.â Gerald wasnât sure he liked being referred to as a lump of concrete.
Rubyâs voice broke Gerald out of his daydream. âArenât