Read Online The Man Who Made Husbands Jealous by Jilly Cooper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jilly Cooper
Ads: Link
dark crimson, as his little eyes darted round looking for a way of escape. Lysander showed no such reticence. Leaping forwards, knocking over a rack of tweezers, he put an arm round the girl's shuddering shoulders. Gently steering her towards the chair kept for pensioners awaiting prescriptions, he broke into a nearby box of pale blue Kleenex and started to blot up the tears. Unlike Martha, there was no mascara to run.
'You poor thing, what a bastard. He'll come back.'
'Never, never,' gulped the girl.
'Go and make a cup of tea, Diane,' snapped the chemist to his assistant who, buckling beneath carrier bags, had tried to sidle in undetected and was now gazing at Lysander in wonder.
Gradually between sobs and sniffs, Lysander elicited the information that the distressed beauty's name was Rachel and that her husband Boris was a Russian dissident and an assistant conductor of the London Metropolitan Orchestra.
'But he never gets to conduct in public because that bastard Rannaldini he's
the London Met's musical director never
gives him the chance. Boris's compositions are wonderful, too, but no-one will programme them because they're rather difficult.'
'Dropped saucepan sort of stuff?' asked Lysander helpfully.
'If you mean atonal,' said the girl bridling slightly, 'yes, it is. Rannaldini could help; but he's jealous of Boris's genius. He actually told Boris, Boris's compositions emptied concert halls. Thank you,' she added as Diane, the assistant, now in a white coat, returned newly made-up and reeking of scent, and handed her a cup of pallid tea.
'You're all being so kind. Boris is kind really,' she went on despairingly, 'but being Russian he gets frustrated trying to communicate and we've got young children and they get on his nerves in a small flat.'
'That's no reason to walk out,' said Lysander indignantly. 'Have a slug of that tea, although you really need something stronger.'Lifting the cup, Rachel's shaking hand spilled so much, she put it down again.
'Boris is in love with a mezzo called Chloe,' she announced miserably. 'The London Met's recording Othello at the moment. She's singing Emilia, so he sees her all the time and Rannaldini's positively encouraging it.'
'What a shit.' Lysander tugged out another wadge of blue Kleenex.
'I was so desperate,' continued Rachel with a sob, 'I went to see Rannaldini this morning, just barged past his secretary. Rannaldini had the temerity to offer me a gin and tonic, saying he couldn't understand why I was making a fuss. He feels the "affaire",' Rachel choked on the word, 'has added a new depth to Boris's compositions, and Chloe has never sung so well. He's a fiend, Rannaldini, he corrupts everyone.' She broke into noisier sobs.
Having exhausted one box of Kleenex, Lysander broke into another. Due to the slow service of Diane, who was not the only one transfixed with interest by this beautiful couple, a long queue had formed many
of whom were beginning to chunter. The pharmacist also noticed that several regulars, who were too embarrassed to ask so publicly for cures for piles or chronic constipation, had sidled out again. He cleared his throat, then when Lysander took no notice, told him and Rachel they couldn't stay indefinitely.
'No, of course not.' Rachel rubbed her forehead in bewilderment. 'My God, I should have picked up the children.'
'Where are they?' asked Lysander, who'd been squatting down beside her, rising stiffly to his feet. 'With a girlfriend.'
'Well, we'll find a pub and ring her. Then I'll run you over there.'
Ferdie's afternoon had been no more rewarding than his morning. A mega-rich German, for whom he'd been searching for months, had suddenly been found a two million pound property by a rival agent and an appalling survey had scuppered a deal that looked certain. Returning home that
'You poor thing, what a bastard. He'll come back.'
'Never, never,' gulped the girl.
'Go and make a cup of tea, Diane,' snapped the chemist to his assistant who, buckling beneath carrier bags, had tried to sidle in undetected and was now gazing at Lysander in wonder.
Gradually between sobs and sniffs, Lysander elicited the information that the distressed beauty's name was Rachel and that her husband Boris was a Russian dissident and an assistant conductor of the London Metropolitan Orchestra.
'But he never gets to conduct in public because that bastard Rannaldini he's
the London Met's musical director never
gives him the chance. Boris's compositions are wonderful, too, but no-one will programme them because they're rather difficult.'
'Dropped saucepan sort of stuff?' asked Lysander helpfully.
'If you mean atonal,' said the girl bridling slightly, 'yes, it is. Rannaldini could help; but he's jealous of Boris's genius. He actually told Boris, Boris's compositions emptied concert halls. Thank you,' she added as Diane, the assistant, now in a white coat, returned newly made-up and reeking of scent, and handed her a cup of pallid tea.
'You're all being so kind. Boris is kind really,' she went on despairingly, 'but being Russian he gets frustrated trying to communicate and we've got young children and they get on his nerves in a small flat.'
'That's no reason to walk out,' said Lysander indignantly. 'Have a slug of that tea, although you really need something stronger.'Lifting the cup, Rachel's shaking hand spilled so much, she put it down again.
'Boris is in love with a mezzo called Chloe,' she announced miserably. 'The London Met's recording Othello at the moment. She's singing Emilia, so he sees her all the time and Rannaldini's positively encouraging it.'
'What a shit.' Lysander tugged out another wadge of blue Kleenex.
'I was so desperate,' continued Rachel with a sob, 'I went to see Rannaldini this morning, just barged past his secretary. Rannaldini had the temerity to offer me a gin and tonic, saying he couldn't understand why I was making a fuss. He feels the "affaire",' Rachel choked on the word, 'has added a new depth to Boris's compositions, and Chloe has never sung so well. He's a fiend, Rannaldini, he corrupts everyone.' She broke into noisier sobs.
Having exhausted one box of Kleenex, Lysander broke into another. Due to the slow service of Diane, who was not the only one transfixed with interest by this beautiful couple, a long queue had formed many
of whom were beginning to chunter. The pharmacist also noticed that several regulars, who were too embarrassed to ask so publicly for cures for piles or chronic constipation, had sidled out again. He cleared his throat, then when Lysander took no notice, told him and Rachel they couldn't stay indefinitely.
'No, of course not.' Rachel rubbed her forehead in bewilderment. 'My God, I should have picked up the children.'
'Where are they?' asked Lysander, who'd been squatting down beside her, rising stiffly to his feet. 'With a girlfriend.'
'Well, we'll find a pub and ring her. Then I'll run you over there.'
Ferdie's afternoon had been no more rewarding than his morning. A mega-rich German, for whom he'd been searching for months, had suddenly been found a two million pound property by a rival agent and an appalling survey had scuppered a deal that looked certain. Returning home that
Similar Books
