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Ostrich Country. David Nobbs
Читать онлайн.Название Ostrich Country
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780007427871
Автор произведения David Nobbs
Жанр Классическая проза
Издательство HarperCollins
David Nobbs
Ostrich Country
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
About the Author
Praise
Other Books by David Nobbs
Copyright
About the Publisher
1
‘A change of environment will bring you new business and personal interests,’ said Cousin Percy.
Pegasus was glad to hear this. He fancied a change of environment. He could do with some new business and personal interests.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
Pegasus cherished a secret ambition — to be a chef in a country inn. He’d never told anyone, not even Paula, for fear they’d laugh. It had become, over the years, something almost shameful. Several times he’d been on the point of taking action, but always this fear of ridicule had held him back. Now, with Cousin Percy’s prediction to urge him on, it would be different.
‘You will star in a new musical,’ said Cousin Percy to Pamela Blossom, actress, singer, pin-up of the Atlantic weather ship S.S. Hailstone.
‘I could do with the money,’ said Miss Blossom.
He wanted to leave, to start his new life straight away, to go down to Kensington Gardens, to the seat, and say good-bye to Paula. He accepted another glass of the red wine and willed Cousin Percy to hurry up.
‘You will win a vast new export order in the Middle East,’ said Cousin Percy to Thomas Windham, the industrialist.
‘That would certainly be just the fillip we need, and I’m sure everyone at Articulated Tubes and Cartons, on both sides, will do their level best to make your prophecy come true,’ commented Thomas Windham.
Fifteen celebrities sitting in a circle, waiting for their predictions, waiting for the photographer to catch their modest smiles, all invited because they were tipped to be the big names in their chosen fields during the next decade. All except Pegasus, who was there because he was family.
‘You will operate on a royal personage,’ said Cousin Percy to Tarragon Clump, the kidney surgeon.
‘Well well,’ said Tarragon Clump, who wasn’t used to giving quotes.
Why had they all come? Vanity? Curiosity? Dipsomania? Agoraphobia? And why did Cousin Percy do it? Aged thirty-four. Ordained 1959. Suddenly lost his faith during the 1961 Cup Final, in the fifty-third minute. Became a free-lance journalist and designer. Pegasus had seen a play he’d designed — strong, spiky scenery. What had made him become the horoscopist for Clang and give this repulsive prediction party?
‘Will I do the double this year?’ said Edward Forrest, the cricketer, whom Pegasus had once seen bowled first ball at Lords.
‘It will be a rewarding time emotionally, and a plan will bear fruit,’ said Cousin Percy.
‘Stuff the bloody emotions,’ said Edwin Forrest. ‘Stuff a plan bearing fruit. Will I do the double?’
He would leave London, the dreary institute off the North Circular Road, the bad dreams, his Hampstead flatlet where an old woman died upstairs and three months later he found out.
There’d be no more dreams, not in the country. Dreamless sleep.
‘You will compere a new quiz programme between members of the dry-cleaning trade.’
At last the predictions were over. The circle broke up, conversation began. He could leave now.
He took a last glass of wine and drank it rapidly. Behind him someone said: ‘I suppose royalty would be much the same as everyone else as regards vital organs, would they, Mr Clump?’ but he didn’t stop to hear the reply. He said: ‘Good-bye. I must be off,’ and Cousin Percy said ‘Oh, are you off?’ and then the voices faded and he was breathing the cold, clammy February air and he was on his way to Kensington Gardens.
He must get away from his old haunts and his memories of Paula. He must stop hanging around the National Film Theatre on Jean-Luc Godard nights in the hope of seeing her. He must cease these visits to Kensington Gardens.
His heart quickened as he approached the seat — the fifth seat on the left of the Broad Walk going towards Bayswater. It was on this seat that he had first kissed her, and it had been there that they had usually met.
He sat on the seat now and thought about her. He thought about the smell of her flesh, that faint, earthy, rubbery emanation of warmth.
She had light fair hair and her eyes … he couldn’t remember the colour of her eyes.
His parents would be upset. They had made sacrifices. Weather forecasting wasn’t all that well paid. They saw him as a famous biologist. His mother had visions of the Nobel Prize. Stockholm. Steady, sincere, unemotional applause. It would be hard to tell them, especially after all these years, especially after it had grown into such a secret ambition.
A new leaf, blown on warm zephyrs. A new life. A new Pegasus. New business and personal interests. A limitless prospect. You’re going to miss out on all this, Paula.
The sky was heavy and colourless. Night would creep up unobserved. Pegasus sat on the seat, rather drunk, rather cold, thinking about Paula.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember her legs, slightly on the short side. She was a little round-shouldered but very desirable, unless his memory was playing him false. He thought of his lips flecking the inside of her arm just below the armpit, and of licking her left ear, in Academy One, during the Czech cartoon.
Soon his eyes filled with tears and his lips moved a little as he appealed to her.
Paula, Paula, how could you do it? I would have adored you for ever. Any impression you may have received to the contrary was caused by the tension which is inseparable from an intimate relationship between two tender and passionate souls. How could you leave me for anyone, let alone a man who translates Ogden Nash into Latin as a hobby?