‘Ah! So then what will you do?’
‘Specials. Millionaires and things like that. We’ve got an interesting special coming off next month which I’m partly here to see about. Grandad wants to capture the do-gooders market, he thinks it has enormous possibilities for the future – you know, all those leisured oldsters who sign letters to The Times in favour of vice. Now they and their stooges are forever going abroad, to build up schools the French have bombed, or rescue animals drowning in dams, or help people to escape from Franco gaols. They’ve got pots of money and Grandad thinks no harm in extracting a percentage.’
‘I don’t think it’s right to cash in on people’s ideals, Basil, even if you haven’t got any yourself.’
‘Somebody’s got to organize their expeditions for them. Now me Grandad has thought of a particularly tempting line-up, see – an atom march. These do-gooders are not like ordinary Britons, they have feet of sheer cast iron and love a good long walk. But they’ve had Britain. They’ve done John o’ Groat’s and all that and they know every inch of the way to Aldermaston. So me Grandad thinks they might like to walk to Saclay, where the French atom scientists hang out – make a change. If that’s a success they can go on to the great atom town in the Sahara. We call it A.S.S. – they start at Aldermaston as usual – Saclay – Sahara. Well, Ma, I wish you could see the provisional bookings. It is a smashing pisseroo old Grandad’s got there. He’s busy now, working out the cost. He’ll make them pay a sum down, quite substantial – you see it’s a different public from our Spanish lot, ever so much richer. Then the idea is to have some treats on the side which they’ll pay extra for – interviews with atom ministers and such like. I thought Father would come in useful there?’
‘I wouldn’t count on it.’
‘Oh well then, Northey can –’
‘What can I do?’ She reappeared, with Philip. ‘Hot news,’ she said. ‘Bigman’s going to fall again (that’s French for Président du Conseil) – not national parks, Sunday speed limit – so we shall see more of him. Goody gum trees.’
‘It’s gum drops, not gum trees,’ Basil said, scornfully.
‘Oh Lord,’ said Philip, ‘not another chap in fancy dress? What have you come as, may one ask? Really, Fanny, your children! Do you know, the Ambassador has just been obliged to go to the Quai in a taxi because David sent Jérôme with the Rolls-Royce to fetch his Zen Master?’
‘No! It’s too bad of David – I can’t have him doing that sort of thing. Go upstairs, Northey, and tell him to come here at once, will you?’
‘Wouldn’t be any use – they’ll be Zenning away with the door locked by now. They go back to bed after breakfast to empty their minds again. Suzanne can never get in to do the room until luncheon-time. The mess is not to be believed. Have you been up there, Fanny?’
‘I had a feeling I’d better not.’
‘I went to have a chat with Dawnie yesterday when David was out. It’s rather fascinating. You’d never think so much deep litter could come out of one canvas bag. Then they’ve stuck up mottoes everywhere: “How miraculous this is: I draw water and I carry fuel” (it would be, if they did) and a picture of a hoop saying “The man and his rice bowl have gone out of sight.”’
‘When you chat with Dawn what does she talk about?’
‘I do the talking. She looks sweet and says nothing. She can explain about the ten stages of spiritual dish-washing but she hasn’t much ordinary conversation. I love her and adorable ’Chang. If only David
