The Night of Wenceslas Read Online Free PDF Page B

irritably. ‘Not too good, is it? But I saw the lawyer today. It seems he left a considerable fortune. He left it to me.’
    ‘Well, this we knew he would do,’ he said. ‘It is no surprise. I do not know how to – I can’t tell her today, Nicolas. She is not well enough for such news today.’
    ‘Well, that’s rather the point. I hoped you would break the news to her before I got down.’
    He breathed into the phone for a while. ‘Nicolas,’ he said at last, ‘I think it would be better if you didn’t come down this weekend. You understand, a shock like this, her only brother … I wouldn’t like to say …’

    ‘All right,’ I said, a little put out. ‘Uncle Bela left quite a lot of money.’
    Of course. He was a rich man. You will tell me about it later. I must think what I should say.’
    ‘I hope Maminka’s not too upset about it.’
    ‘She is bound to be upset. She will be terribly distressed. I can’t prevent it.’
    ‘Well, I’ll call you in a couple of days.’
    ‘In two or three days, yes. Goodbye, Nicolas.’ He put the phone down before I did.
    I got back into the car with a feeling of let-down. It seemed there was nobody I could tell about the money. The weight of the hundred and forty thousand pounds was suddenly heavy on me. The beer had left a sour taste.
    I drove slowly back home, aware I shouldn’t be driving at all. By a stroke of luck, Mrs Nolan was not prowling in the hall. I went up to my room and fell on to the divan and was asleep immediately.
        
    Only one other thing of note happened that day. I awoke at half past eight in the evening. Mrs Nolan had gone to the pictures and one of the lodgers was knocking on the door to call me to the phone. I took myself frowstily down the three flights. It was the man Jack had mentioned who was interested in buying the car. I told him rather shortly that it was not for sale, and hung up.
    I didn’t take his name or number.
3
    I called for Maura next morning, and watched her in my new role of scale-weigher. What I saw went solidly on the plus side. Nothing wrong there, I thought, as she hopped nimbly into the car. Her red hair was cut short. She was wearing a gaily coloured cotton frock and a shoulder bag. Her lopsided smile could take your breath away in that sedate Sunday-morning square.

    She said, ‘Nicolas, I was so mean the other night. I’ve been depressed about it.’
    I said, ‘Well,’ with a tremendous lift. ‘I’ve not been feeling so hot, either.’
    ‘Then let’s forget it and have a wonderful day, I’ve got something to tell you.’
    ‘What is it?’
    Her lopsided smile came on briefly. ‘I’ll tell you later. Can we afford a run in the country?’
    ‘I’ve got a secret, too,’ I said, and dug into my wallet for the twenty-five pounds I had brought with me. ‘Look. I won it.’
    ‘Nicolas, you never did!’
    ‘At the dogs.’ I’d rehearsed this in the bathroom mirror, but it was coming out a bit too quickly.
    ‘Was this last night?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘You never told me you were going. You’ve never been before, Nicolas, you’re fibbing…’ A thought struck her and she looked at me, blinking quickly. ‘There wasn’t anything more about the Little Swine? You weren’t keeping anything back?’
    ‘No,’ I said irritably. It had started to go a bit funny.
    ‘Well, it’s wonderful anyway,’ she said. It didn’t sound so wonderful now. ‘Let’s have a picnic. We can buy food. I was dreaming about the country. I was dreaming about Ireland.’
    So mat seemed all right again, and I shoved in the clutch and took off like a jet through Chiswick, through Datchet, through Taplow, and we sang like little larks, not knowing what would befall.
    That was a perfect July day, the best of that wild summer.
    We ate in a clearing in the woods beyond Cliveden and afterwards lay back and smoked. Maura said, ‘Nicolas.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’ve been thinking of going back to Ireland.’
    ‘I know. In