Read Online Next of Kin by John Boyne - Free Book Online

Americans anyway?’ asked Samuel Levison. ‘One minute they want nothing to do with us, insist on running their damn country themselves, and the next they want to steal the bloody throne. Watch out or they’ll become even more imperialist than we ever were.’
    Charles opened his mouth to reply but closed it again as Montignac stepped through the door of the billiard room and stood staring at them with an angry look on his face. Samuel took a surprise and mishit the white; it bounced clear off the table and rolled along the floor, stopping precisely in front of their host’s feet. Montignac looked down at it for a moment, as if unsure what a billiard ball could possibly be doing there, before reaching down and picking it up. He held on to it tightly, unwilling to replace it on the table.
    â€˜Gentlemen,’ he said quietly.
    The others, old and young alike, were unable to look him in the eye and had the good grace to appear a little ashamed of themselves.
    â€˜Bad business,’ said one.
    â€˜Terrible loss,’ muttered another into his beard.
    â€˜I wanted to thank you all for coming,’ said Montignac quickly, in a voice which implied he wanted to do nothing of the sort. ‘Very good of you. My uncle would have been touched.’
    â€˜He was a fine man, Montignac,’ said the retired Home Secretary, waddling over and slapping him on the shoulder. ‘One of the finest I ever had the good fortune to know. And I’ve known them all.’
    â€˜Yes,’ replied Montignac in a non-committal voice. ‘Is everyone all right for drinks?’ They muttered that they were. ‘Because they’re serving tea and whiskies in the drawing room if you’d like to join them.’
    A five-second silence, a quick glance at the retained white ball in Montignac’s hand, and the men took the hint and replaced their cues in the rack on the wall, shuffling past their host, unable to look him in the eye. Only Alexander Keys remained, his oldest friend, and Montignac glanced at him, not particularly wanting a conversation.
    â€˜All right, old man?’ asked Alexander.
    â€˜All right,’ replied Montignac quietly.
    â€˜Want me to stick around later? We could have a few quiet drinks.’
    â€˜Maybe,’ he said. ‘I’m tired. We’ll see.’
    They remained silent for a while and Montignac replaced the white ball on the billiard table, lining it up so that he had a direct view of the black and the left-hand corner pocket.
    â€˜Sorry about all this,’ said Alexander, nodding at the table. ‘We couldn’t think of anything to do and just sort of drifted in here. We’d already started when we realized it mightn’t be quite the thing.’
    â€˜Forget it,’ he said, shaking his head as if the matter was no longer of any interest to him. ‘What time do you think these people will leave at anyway?’
    â€˜Soon enough, I imagine.’
    â€˜God, I hate them,’ he added with a sigh.
    â€˜Hate them?’ asked Alexander, laughing nervously. ‘That’s a bit strong, isn’t it?’
    Montignac said nothing for a moment but slammed the white ball down the table with his hand, where it hit the black, sending it crashing into the corner pocket. The white bounced back, ricocheted off the cushion and crossed the table where its trajectory began to slow down as it approached the side pocket; it teetered there for a few moments on the edge before falling in. He frowned and shook his head.
    â€˜Want me to drop a few hints out there?’ asked Alexander. ‘Get them to put a shake on?’
    â€˜Be grateful if you would.’
    â€˜Consider it done,’ said his friend, passing him by and leaving the room, tapping his arm for comfort as he went. ‘And if you want me to stick around later, you only have to ask. You know that. How’s Stella holding up, by the way?’
    â€˜She’ll be