Читать книгу Royal Regiment - Gilbert Frankau - Страница 14

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Geoffrey Rockingham drew out and examined the glowing tongs; applied them to the neck of the bottle, and cracked it in the wet cloth. “Neat job”, he preened himself as he filled the five glasses. “The future rear-admiral will now speak his piece.”

“The King”, said William, without rising; and took an appreciative sip of the good wine.

The others followed the navy’s example and drank seated. But despite its apparent casualness—or so it seemed to the eldest brother—the little ceremony had not left his mother unmoved. Her eyes were sombre. She was thinking—he knew—of his father and of Arthur, who had been killed on the same day. Frances also—he remembered—had lost her father in the war.

“I’m sure he’ll make a grand king.” It was she who spoke next. “Because he’s been such a wonderful Prince of Wales.”

“I feel that too.” Her husband followed. “He’s so jolly human. When I was in Renown with him——”

“Must we hear that story again?” asked Geoffrey.

They spatted for a sentence or so; then the flying man, serious again, said:

“He ought to do civil aviation a spot of good. It needs propaganda. But I wouldn’t take on Mouse’s job for a fortune. Would you, Tom? Nice schemozzle there’d be if he crashed with the monarch”.

“What a ghastly idea.” The port was loosening Frances’ tongue. “You do think of the most dreadful things, Geoffrey. I don’t feel he ought to fly. At any rate until after the coronation. I simply insist on being taken to that, William. How soon will it be?”

“Not for at least a year. So you needn’t start to panic yet awhile. They might give me a big ship by then. Grand if they do. I hate office work.”

“A lot you have to grumble about, William”, interrupted their mother. “Or Geoffrey either. You ought both to be in the Regiment. How long will you have to wait for your brigade, Tom?”

“Another two years at the very least.”

“Scandalous, I call it. The army isn’t a career any more. If you’d have taken that engineering job you were offered when the war finished you might have been making your fortune.”

“At any rate he wasn’t axed”, said William. “Like all those poor devils in our service.”

“I always think that was a damn shame.” The eldest Rockingham refilled his glass.

“We could do with some of ’em back today”, reflected William.

The youngest Rockingham laughed, “Anybody who serves his country must expect to get it in the neck sooner or later. That’s all part of the jolly fun. Here’s to the civilian population. Heaven bless ’em, and protect ’em. Because I’m blowed if we can. Not with the kind of crates we’re given. If I were you I should sell this house and move into the country, mother. There won’t be much food going in London once they start dropping thermite eggs on the docks. A fat lot of good Bill’s big ship’ll be when that happens. And I don’t see Tom getting his guns across the Channel either”.

“If that’s the spirit of the R.A.F.——” began William.

“Spirit be sugared. It’s no use putting your blind eye to that particular telescope, Horatio. And you can tell all the captains in the King’s Navee so with my compliments. You’re whacked. You’re out of date. You’re a bunch of armourplated anachronisms.”

“I don’t know what anachronisms are.” Frances spoke. “But I’m quite sure William’s not one. And if you’re going to talk war, I’d rather go upstairs.”

She looked imploringly at her mother-in-law; but it was not until a quarter of an hour later that Mabelle Rockingham ordered:

“Don’t be too long, you three. I think I’ll tell Fanny she can go to bed”.

“As though she ever waited for that”, laughed Geoffrey, opening the door.