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Authors: P G Wodehouse

Tags: #Humour, #Novel

Laughing Gas (3 page)

BOOK: Laughing Gas
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Then she smiled bravely.

'But let's not talk about me,' she said. 'Tell me about yourself. Is this your first visit to America?' 'Yes.'

'And why are you going to Hollywood
,
You are going to Hollywood, I suppose? Not getting off somewhere before Los Angeles?'

'Oh, no, I'm bound for Hollywood all right On business, as you might say, more or less. You see, a splash of family trouble has arisen. There's a cousin of mine making rather an ass of himself in those parts. You haven't run into him, by any chance, have you? Tall, butter coloured-haired chap named Egremont Mannering?'

'No.'

'Well, he's in Hollywood and, from all accounts, planning to get married. And what we feel, knowing Eggy, is that the bride-to-be is probably some frightful red-hot mamma. In which event, it is imperative that a spanner be bunged into the works. And I was told off to come along and do it.'

She nodded.

'I see. Yes, I don't wonder you are anxious. Most of the girls in Hollywood are terrible. That is one of the things that make the place so uncongenial to me. That is why I have so few real friends. I know people think me prudish, but what is one to do?'

'I see what you mean. Bit of a problem.'

'Rather than mix with uncongenial people who think about nothing but wild parties, I prefer to be lonely. Though, after all, can one ever be lonely if one has one's books?'

'True.'

'And flowers.'

'Quite.'

'And one's kitchen, of course.' 'Absolutely.'

'But here
we are, talking about me again,
Go on telling me about yourself. Was it just to find your cousin that you came to America?'

'Not exactly, I
rather saw my way to killing two birds with one stone, as it were. There was this heavyweight championship fight on in Chicago, and I particularly wanted to see it.'

'You really enjoy watching fights?'

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'Nine times out of ten they're absolute washouts, of course. But this one was a corker. It was worth coming four thousand miles just to see that fifth round.' The recollection of it stirred me deeply, and I had to rise in order to illustrate. 'It had been pretty good even before that, but in the fifth everything just boiled over. The champion managed to work his man into a neutral corner and copped him squarely on the nose. The challenger came back with a beauty to the eye. They clinched. The referee broke them. Champion to chin, challenger to lower ribs. Another clinch. Break. Infighting all over the ring. Challenger landed lightly, champ to nose again, then right on the smush. Blood flowing in quarts, and the air thick with teeth and ears and things. And then, just before the bell went, the champ brought one up from the floor...'

I broke off here, because she had fainted. I had thought at first, when she closed her eyes, that she had done so merely in order to listen better, but this was apparently not the case. She slid sideways along the seat and quietly passed out.

I was gravely concerned. In the enthusiasm of the moment I had forgotten the effect my narrative might have on this sensitive plant, and I was not quite certain what was the next move. The best way, of course, of bringing round a swooned subject is to bite the ear, but I couldn't very well bite this divine girl's ear. Apart from anything else, I felt I didn't know her well enough.

Fortunately, before I was called upon to take any steps, her eyelids fluttered and she gave a little sigh. Her eyes opened.

'Where am I?' she murmured.

I looked out of the window.

'Well, I'm a stranger in these parts myself,' I said, 'but I think somewhere in New Mexico.' She sat up.

'Oh, I feel so mortified
'
'Eh?'

'You must think me so silly, fainting like that.' 'My fault entirely. I oughtn't to have dished the dreadful details.'

'It wasn't your fault. Most girls would have enjoyed it. Though I think there is something terribly unfeminine ... Go on, Lord Havershot, what happened after that?'

'No, no. I wouldn't dream of telling you.'

'Do. Please.'

'Oh, well, putting the thing in a nutshell, he soaked him on the button, don't you know, and his day's work was done.'

'Could you get me a glass of water?'

I leaped to the bottle. She sipped in a fluttering sort of way.

'Thank you,' she said. 'I feel better now. I'm sorry I was so silly.'

'You weren't silly.'

'Oh, but I was. Terribly silly.'

'You weren't silly at all. The whole episode reflects great credit on your womanly nature.'

And I was about to add that I had never in my puff beheld anything that had stirred me more deeply than the way she had turned her toes up, when the negroid bloke poked his nose in at the door and announced that lunch was served.

'You go along,' she said. 'I'm sure you must be starving.'

'Aren't you coming?'

'I think I'll just lie here and rest. I still feel... No, you go along.'

'I should like to kick myself.' 'Why?'

'For being such a chump. Sullying your ears like that.' 'Please
,
Do go and get your lunch.' 'But will you be all right?' 'Oh, yes.' 'You're sure?'

'Oh, yes, really. I shall just lie here and think of flowers. I often do that - just lie around and think of flowers. Roses, chiefly. It seems to make everything beautiful and fragrant again.'

So I pushed off. And as I sat eating my steak and fried, I put in some pretty intensive thinking between the mouthfuls.

Of course I saw what had happened. These volcanic symptoms were unmistakable. A chap's heart does not go pit-a-pat, as mine was doing, for nothing. This was the

real thing, and what I had taken for a strong man's passion when I had got engaged to Ann Bannister two years ago had been merely Class B stuff. Yes, there was no getting away from it. At long last Love had wound its silken fetters about Reginald Havershot.

I had suspected this from the first. The very moment I had set eyes on this girl, I had received the distinct impression that she was my soul-mate, and everything that had passed between us had made me more certain on the point. It was that sweet, tender, gentle wistfulness of hers that had got in amongst me to such a marked extent. I suppose this is always the way with beefy birds like me. Something draws us instinctively to the fragile flowerets.

It was in a sober, thoughtful spirit that I polished off the steak and put in a bid for deep-dish apple pie with a bit of cheese on the side.

Chapter
3

A
nd
I'll tell you why I was sober and thoughtful. It was because I recognized that this, as they say in the stories, was not an end but a beginning. I mean to say, it was all very well to have fallen in love at first sight, but that didn't take me very far. Where, I was asking myself, did I go from there? What of the future? In other words, what steps was I to take in order to bring about the happy finish? The fact had to be faced that if banns were ever to be put up and clergymen were ever to say 'Wilt thou, Reginald? some pretty heavy work lay ahead of me. In no sense could the thing be looked upon as a walkover.

You see, I have kept it from you till now, but there are certain defects in my personal appearance which prevent me being everybody's money where the opposite sex is concerned. I am no flier in the way of looks. Externally, I take after the pater, and if you had ever seen the pater you would realize what that means. He was a gallant soldier and played a hot game of polo, but he had a face like a gorilla - much more so, indeed, than most gorillas have - and was, so I am informed, affectionately known to his little circle of cronies as Consul, the Almost Human. And I am his living image.

These things weigh with girls. They shrink from linking their lot with a fellow whose appearance gives the impression that at any moment he may shin up trees and start throwing coconuts.

However, it was too late to do anything about that now. I could only hope that April June would prove to be one of those rare spirits who can pierce the outer husk, as it were, and penetrate to the soul beneath. Because I haven't got such a bad soul, as souls go. I don't say it's the sort of soul you would write to the papers about, but it's well up to the average.

And I'm bound to say that, as the days went along, I found myself perking up a bit. I seemed to be making progress. No one could have been matier than April during my first week in Hollywood. We motored together, bathed together, and had long talks together in the scented dusk. She told me all about her ideals, and I told her all about the old homestead at Biddleford and how Countesses were presented at Court and had the run of the Royal Enclosure at Ascot and a lot of other things she seemed interested in. And there was absolutely nothing in her manner to suggest that she was in any way repelled by the fact that I looked as if I belonged in Whipsnade.

In fact, to cut a long story short, her chummy attitude so encouraged me that by the end of the first week I had decided to chance my arm and have at it.

The occasion I selected for pressing the button and setting the machinery in motion was a party she was giving at her house on Linden Drive. She explained that she didn't like parties, as they seemed to her hollow, but that a girl in her position was expected to give one every now and then, particularly if she had been away for a while.
I
It was to be one of those jolly Beverly Hills
outdoor din
ner parties, where you help yourself at the buffet, squash
I
in anywhere, and top off the meal by diving into the swimming-pool. The proceedings were to begin somewhere after nine and before ten, so I rolled up at about nine forty-five.

i
This, as it turned out, was on the early side. A few scattered couples had arrived and were strolling about under the coloured lanterns, but April was still dressing and the orchestra hadn't started to play and altogether it was apparent that there was going to be a bit of a lull before the revelry got into high.

In these circs, it seemed to me that the best way of passing the time would be to trickle over to the table where the drinks were and brace myself with one or two. In view of what lay before me, I wanted to feel at the top of my form - which I wasn't
at the moment, owing to having
been kept awake a good deal during the night with a touch of toothache.

As I approached the table, I noticed that my idea of going and doing a bit of stoking up, though good, was not original. It had occurred also to a tall, slender bloke with butter-coloured hair. He was standing there in a rooted sort of way, as if he meant to take a lot of shifting, and he seemed to be putting a good deal of custom in the way of the bar-tenders. And there was something about him, something in his technique as he raised and lowered his glass, which somehow struck me as oddly familiar. Also, I felt I had seen that hair before. And the next moment I had identified him.

'Eggy!
' I cried.

He had just emptied his glass as I spoke, which was fortunate, for at the sound of my view-halloo he leaped about six inches in the air. Returning to earth, he leaned towards the chap behind the bar, his bosom heaving a bit.

'I say,' he asked in a low, trembling tone, 'you didn't hear a voice then, by any chance, did you?'

The chap said that he thought he had heard someone say something about eggs.

'Oh, you did hear it?'

'Eggy, you old ass,' I said.

This time he turned, and stood staring at me. His face was drawn and anxious.

'Reggie?' he said, in a doubting sort of way.

He blinked a couple of times, then put a hand out and prodded my chest cautiously. As his finger touched solid shirt-front, a look of relief spread over his features.

'Phew!' he said.

He asked the chap behind the bar for another Scotch, and it was not until he had received and taken a liberal swig of this that he spoke again. When he did, his voice was grave and reproachful.

'If you know me a million years, Reggie, old man,' he said, wiping a bead of persp. from his brow, 'never do a thing like that again.
I thought you were thousands of
miles away, and when I heard your voice, all ghastly and hollow ... calling my name ... like a ruddy banshee ... It's the one thing I'm scared of, hearing voices,' he said. 'I'm told that till you do that you're all right, but once the voices start coming it's the beginning of the end.'

He shuddered and finished the rest of his drink at a gulp. This appeared to complete the cure, for he became easier in his manner.

'Well, well, well,' he said, 'so you're here, are you, Reggie? Ages since I saw you last. Six months come Sheffield Wednesday, or thereabouts. What on earth are you doing in Hollywood?'

'I came to see you.'


You did?'

'Yes.'

'Pretty cousinly. Have a spot. I can recommend the Scotch. Bar-bloke, would you be so good as to mix a Scotch and soda for my relative here and the same for me.'

BOOK: Laughing Gas
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