Read Online Black August by Dennis Wheatley - Free Book Online Page A

grim.’
    â€˜Quite shattering, my dear, just think of mother and me cooped up at Banners without a soul to separate us when we fight. The thought appals me.’
    Fiona turned as the door opened behind her. ‘Hullo, Kenyon, my dear. How are you?’
    â€˜Splendid, thanks. Electioneering can be almost as good exercise as polo. How’s Peter?’
    â€˜He’s very fit, but so swollen-headed I hardly know what to do with him. Last Sunday he got round the Red course at the Royal Berks in 82. He’ll be here in a moment and then you’ll have to hear all about it.’
    â€˜Good for him—but all the same, I flatly refuse to listen to any more golfing stories except from registered voters in my own division.’ Kenyon glanced at his sister, ‘Well, long-legs—what about a drink?’
    â€˜Brute!’ she flung at him, ‘how many times have I told you that I absolutely forbid the use of derogatory terms in connection with my delicious limbs. The drinks are in the cupboard,
and,
my boy—may I remind you that it is your turn to pay?’
    â€˜But hang it, we were away all last week,’ he protested as he opened the cupboard. ‘Still there’s lots here—some fresh bottles, too!’
    â€˜Yes, my love—I ordered them this morning.’
    â€˜Oh, well that was decent of you—I take it all back.’
    Veronica suddenly guffawed with laughter, ‘and I put them down to your account at Justerini’s! Tra-la-la … tra-la-la!’
    â€˜The devil you did! I owe them quite enough already.’
    â€˜Never mind, Herbert pays his bills regularly so they won’t worry you.’
    â€˜I dare say not, but I hate running up big bills. Electioneering is the most expensive pastime I know after yachting.’
    â€˜You forgit the lidies, dearie!’ mocked Veronica. ‘All the same I think Herbert is a mean old pig to make us pay for our own tipple.’
    â€˜Does he?’ exclaimed Fiona. ‘I thought he was supposed tohave one of the best cellars in England?’
    Veronica nodded. ‘Yes, sweet, and sherry, if you like it, is “on the ‘ouse” as they say. But Herbert doesn’t approve of cocktails so we pay for our three pen’oth of gin in turns.’
    The door opened again and a footman in plain livery announced ‘Major Hay-Symple.’
    â€˜Hullo, Veronica—Fiona, how are you? How’s Peter, eh?—Hullo, Kenyon, old boy!’ The rather thickset soldier with lively blue eyes threw a quick succession of smiles at them all. For a moment they stared at him in mild surprise. His immaculate khaki tunic with its little row of ribbons, wide breeches and shining field boots seemed strangely alien upon this intimate friend. That he should arrive at a cocktail party in uniform brought home to them more than any newspaper placard the gravity of the situation.
    Then Veronica jumped up, and flinging her arms wide, kissed him with a loud smack on the forehead. ‘Alistair, my hero! come and sit here by me. What news out of Flanders, laddie? Stand the King’s colours where they stood—spare not the gruesome details for we are women of England. What news of the War?’
    â€˜Eh—what’s that? What war?’ Hay-Symple looked vaguely astonished at her onset.
    â€˜The rioting or whatever you call it, stupid—in all these horrid places that no one ever goes to!’
    â€˜Oh, well—there’s been a spot of bother in the North.’
    â€˜God! what a man!’ Veronica sank back on the sofa, her hands clasped dramatically to her head. ‘Details, my good fool—details are what we want.’
    He grinned good-humouredly and took the cocktail that Kenyon held out. ‘Well, there’s trouble in Glasgow; the wires are down and some of these blackguards have sabotaged a bridge, but it’s nothing to worry about. Three battalions of the Highland