A Room in Chelsea Square by Michael Nelson

Author:Michael Nelson [Nelson, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2016-01-26T00:00:00+00:00

‘Sit by the fire, Patrick,’ said Ronnie. ‘You, Christopher, bring over the tray and place that small table near me. Nicholas, would you be so kind as to carry over the brandy. Carefully, please. There! Put it on the table. I think that’s everything.’

He picked up a glass and warmed it between his hands. He looked at Patrick and smiled.

‘You’ll observe the absence of a spirit lamp,’ he said. ‘A senseless and barbaric Victorian innovation. How would you like your blood heat to be callously raised by the sudden application of a searing flame? Nicholas, perhaps you would place another log on the fire. I think the basket to the right contains the cedar wood.’

He gazed round the company. ‘Surely someone’s absent?’

‘One, two, three, four. Lily is five. It must be Michael,’ said Patrick.

Nicholas, who had noticed Michael follow Lily out of the hall, said quickly: ‘He went to the bathroom, Ronnie.’

‘The bathroom?’ said Patrick. ‘What a simply terrifying refinement. You mean the lavatory, my dear.’

‘Now, Patrick, if you feel sufficiently refreshed and are quite comfortable, I think we should proceed to the main business of the evening,’ said Ronnie. ‘Nicholas, I’m sorry to disturb you again. In that cupboard you will find a box of Turkish delight. Would you place it by me on the table?’

‘Business?’ said Patrick. ‘How can you talk of such a thing? Such a pity to ruin our digestions after such a spread.’

‘We must discuss Eleven, Patrick,’ said Christopher. ‘That’s why I came to dinner.’

‘Nicholas, hand Christopher the cigars,’ said Ronnie. He knew that a perfectly good cigar would be wasted. But he had to devise some method of keeping Christopher quiet. Christopher was completely uncouth and uncivilized. He had never learnt to control his thoughts. The dinner they had just eaten could not fail to stimulate thought. But its purpose had not been to loosen a flow of uncontrolled inanities.

Christopher stuck the cigar in his mouth. ‘Do you think it makes me look like a tycoon, Ronnie?’ he asked.

‘You’d better remove the band,’ said Ronnie.

Christopher took the cigar from his mouth and twirled it between his fingers. ‘Do I smell it or listen to it, Ronnie?’ He placed it against his nose.

‘Cut it, Christopher.’

Christopher took a used match from the ash tray and jabbed it into the end of the cigar.

Ronnie winced.

‘I really don’t think it matters now what you do to it, Christopher,’ he said. ‘I should say that you’ve bled it to death.’

Christopher looked at Nicholas, winked, and struck a match which he held to the end of the cigar. He coughed, and blew out clouds of smoke.

Ronnie carefully selected his own cigar. One after another he placed them to his ear and tapped them, with a look of concentration on his face. When he had found one to his satisfaction, he cut it carefully, and revolved the end gently in the flame of a match. He dropped the match into the ash tray, leant back against a cushion, and slowly drew in the smoke.

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