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Authors: Jilly Cooper
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nose on elastic for bitches, and virtually untrainable.
He found the place in chaos. Lysander shed possessions like leaves in autumn. Records, tapes, telephone books, glasses, the remains of breakfast, over-flowing ashtrays, the racing pages of the Sun and several discarded ties littered the sitting room. Lysander, already dressed for the interview, was ringing Ladbroke's.
'Why the hell can't you shut my bedroom door?' Ferdie retrieved a Gucci loafer from Jack's ravening jaws. 'And what do you look like?'
Lysander glanced down at the crumpled grey suit and the blue and white striped shirt.
'Basically I put on the thing that least needed ironing,' he said apologetically.
He'd have pinched one of my shirts if they hadn't been too big, thought Ferdie darkly, then caught sight of an empty bottle of Moe't in the waste-paper basket.
'You've been drinking.'
'Only half the bottle.'
'You can't fucking afford champagne.'
'I didn't,' said Lysander smugly. 'An incredibly nice girl turned up with it from The Scorpion. She left me her card.'
Examining it, Ferdie gave a groan.
'Beattie Johnson! Are you crazy? She's the most bent journalist in England.'
'Well, she was sweet to me. Said she'd read all the Palm Beach stuff and wanted me to have the chance to tell my side of the story, and if I told her all about Martha and Sherry, The Scorpion might give me a Ferrari.'
Ferdie went white. 'You didn't?'
'Course not.' Lysander assumed an air of great virtue. 'I couldn't do that to Martha. Besides, Dolly would do her nut. Off the record I did tell her how funny it was escaping from Elmer's and being picked up by Sherry. She took some pictures. She said she could get me some modelling work.'
'Christ, when will you learn?' Ferdie was in despair, but there was no time for reproaches.
Sighing, he straightened Lysander's tie, gave his shoes a last polish and brushed Jack's white hairs off his suit. He then put a couple of Roger Westwood's cards in bothLysander's breast and inside pockets and turned down the A-Z with the relevant road ringed. Finally he gave Lysander an Extra Strong mint to hide the champagne fumes and his last twenty-pound note in case he needed some cash.
'Now, don't forget to steer Roger on to racing. That's the only thing you know anything about, and try and look interested. No, you haven't got time to watch Neighbours, Move it.'
An insanely fast driver, Lysander reached Roger's office near Holborn ten minutes early and pulled up his battered dark green Golf outside a television shop to watch the end of Neighbours and the runners going down to the start for the 2.15. He'd been right to back that dark brown mare she looked really well. Neighbours ended on a clinch, which reminded Lysander that Dolly was due back this evening, Worried about the side-effects of being on the Pill since she was fourteen, Dolly had recently come off it, so he had better nip into the next door chemist's shop to buy some condoms. He was just waiting at the counter wondering if rainbow ones would improve his performance Dolly
was very demanding when
a girl swept into the shop sending a rack of bath caps flying.
She was very tall and thin, with fine pale hair drawn] back from a long, beautiful unmade-up face into a tortoise shell clip. Very inadequately dressed in a grey wool midi-dress, she had the gangling panicky air of a giraffe who'd] escaped from the zoo into rush-hour traffic.
'I want some eye-gel,' she announced in a high, trembling voice. 'No, not that one, it's tested on animals,] In fact I want three tubes. I'm going to be doing a lot of crying in the next few days. My husband's just left me.' And she burst into tears.
The pharmacist forced to serve her, because his assist-ant was late back from lunch, was totally thrown. His scrubbed face turned
He found the place in chaos. Lysander shed possessions like leaves in autumn. Records, tapes, telephone books, glasses, the remains of breakfast, over-flowing ashtrays, the racing pages of the Sun and several discarded ties littered the sitting room. Lysander, already dressed for the interview, was ringing Ladbroke's.
'Why the hell can't you shut my bedroom door?' Ferdie retrieved a Gucci loafer from Jack's ravening jaws. 'And what do you look like?'
Lysander glanced down at the crumpled grey suit and the blue and white striped shirt.
'Basically I put on the thing that least needed ironing,' he said apologetically.
He'd have pinched one of my shirts if they hadn't been too big, thought Ferdie darkly, then caught sight of an empty bottle of Moe't in the waste-paper basket.
'You've been drinking.'
'Only half the bottle.'
'You can't fucking afford champagne.'
'I didn't,' said Lysander smugly. 'An incredibly nice girl turned up with it from The Scorpion. She left me her card.'
Examining it, Ferdie gave a groan.
'Beattie Johnson! Are you crazy? She's the most bent journalist in England.'
'Well, she was sweet to me. Said she'd read all the Palm Beach stuff and wanted me to have the chance to tell my side of the story, and if I told her all about Martha and Sherry, The Scorpion might give me a Ferrari.'
Ferdie went white. 'You didn't?'
'Course not.' Lysander assumed an air of great virtue. 'I couldn't do that to Martha. Besides, Dolly would do her nut. Off the record I did tell her how funny it was escaping from Elmer's and being picked up by Sherry. She took some pictures. She said she could get me some modelling work.'
'Christ, when will you learn?' Ferdie was in despair, but there was no time for reproaches.
Sighing, he straightened Lysander's tie, gave his shoes a last polish and brushed Jack's white hairs off his suit. He then put a couple of Roger Westwood's cards in bothLysander's breast and inside pockets and turned down the A-Z with the relevant road ringed. Finally he gave Lysander an Extra Strong mint to hide the champagne fumes and his last twenty-pound note in case he needed some cash.
'Now, don't forget to steer Roger on to racing. That's the only thing you know anything about, and try and look interested. No, you haven't got time to watch Neighbours, Move it.'
An insanely fast driver, Lysander reached Roger's office near Holborn ten minutes early and pulled up his battered dark green Golf outside a television shop to watch the end of Neighbours and the runners going down to the start for the 2.15. He'd been right to back that dark brown mare she looked really well. Neighbours ended on a clinch, which reminded Lysander that Dolly was due back this evening, Worried about the side-effects of being on the Pill since she was fourteen, Dolly had recently come off it, so he had better nip into the next door chemist's shop to buy some condoms. He was just waiting at the counter wondering if rainbow ones would improve his performance Dolly
was very demanding when
a girl swept into the shop sending a rack of bath caps flying.
She was very tall and thin, with fine pale hair drawn] back from a long, beautiful unmade-up face into a tortoise shell clip. Very inadequately dressed in a grey wool midi-dress, she had the gangling panicky air of a giraffe who'd] escaped from the zoo into rush-hour traffic.
'I want some eye-gel,' she announced in a high, trembling voice. 'No, not that one, it's tested on animals,] In fact I want three tubes. I'm going to be doing a lot of crying in the next few days. My husband's just left me.' And she burst into tears.
The pharmacist forced to serve her, because his assist-ant was late back from lunch, was totally thrown. His scrubbed face turned
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