The door opened and April swept in. "What's the noise about?" she said. "Edward, have you been breaking my china?"
"I'm sorry, April. I'll pay for it."
Micky said to April: "I was just explaining to Edward that he can still come here after he's married."
"Good God, I should hope so," April said. "If no married men came here I'd have to close the place." She turned toward the doorway and called out: "Sid! Fetch a broom."
Edward was calming down rapidly, to Micky's relief. Micky said: "When we're first married, we should probably spend a few evenings at home, and give the occasional dinner party. But after a while we'll go right back to normal."
Edward frowned. "Don't wives mind that?"
Micky shrugged. "Who cares whether they mind? What can a wife do?"
"If she's discontented I suppose she can bother her husband."
Micky realized that Edward was taking his mother as a typical wife. Fortunately few women were as strong-willed or as clever as Augusta. "The trick is not to be too good to them," Micky said, speaking from observation of married cronies at the Cowes Club. "If you're good to a wife she'll want you to stay with her. Treat her roughly and she'll be only too glad to see you go off to your club in the evening and leave her in peace."
Muriel put her arms around Edward's neck. "It'll be just the same when you're married, Edward, I promise," she said. "I'll suck your cock while you watch Micky fuck Lily, just the way you like."
"Will you?" he said with a foolish grin.
"Course I will."
"So nothing will change, really," he said, looking at Micky.
"Oh, yes," said Micky. "One thing will change. You'll be a partner in the bank."
Chapter TWO
APRIL
Section 1
THE MUSIC HALL was as hot as a Turkish bath. The air smelled of beer, shellfish and unwashed people. Onstage a young woman dressed in elaborate rags stood in front of a painted backdrop of a pub. She was holding a doll, to represent a newborn baby, and singing about how she had been seduced and abandoned. The audience, sitting on benches at long trestle-tables, linked arms and joined in the chorus:
And all it took was a little drop of gin!
Hugh sang at the top of his voice. He was feeling good. He had eaten a pint of winkles and drunk several glasses of warm, malty beer, and he was pressed up against Nora Dempster, a pleasant person to be squashed by. She had a soft, plump body and a beguiling smile, and she had probably saved his life.
