Marrying Off Mother (24 page)

Ursula was out of the taxi with the speed and agility of an eel. ‘Oh, how kind of you to carry Moses,' she smiled, turning some twenty-five thousand watts of her personality on to the man. ‘He's a parrot, you know, and he can talk
beautifully.
Unfortunately, he's having trouble with his eyes — it's a parrot disease called Parotitis and we've brought him up to Harley Street to have his eyes tested — you see, he's mistaking people for other people. He must have mistaken you for somebody he dislikes. He'll be right as rain when he's been fitted up with a new pair of spectacles.'

‘Moses likes a pair of testicles,' Moses remarked conversationally.

Faced with the whole improbable scene for which his training had not prepared him, the doorman looked stunned.

‘Does madam wish to have this talking bird in her room?' he asked at last.

‘Oh, yes, please,' said Ursula, ‘and all this baggage. You
are
kind.'

She turned back and leant into the taxi.

‘I forgot to bring his damned cover,' she said. ‘Once that's over him, he doesn't say a word. I'll have to buy another. Goodbye, darling, see you at lunch. One sharp at the Dorchester. I love you to bits.'

She kissed me and followed the parrot into Claridge's. Moses was now singing in a fine, rich, ringing baritone, ‘Aint't it a pity she's only one titty to feed the baby on. Poor little bugger will never play rugger and grow up big and strong.'

I gave the driver the address of my hotel and sat back, mopping my brow.

‘A right little lady you've got there, guv,' said the driver. ‘She's a real card, if you don't mind me saying so.'

‘She's a whole deck of cards,' I said bitterly.

The driver chuckled.

‘And that there parrot,' he said. ‘Laugh? I could've killed myself listening to ‘im. A real pornographic parrot that one and no mistake.'

‘Yes, the two of them make an enchanting couple,' I said, acidly.

‘Yuss,' said the driver, ‘but if I had to choose, straight up, I'd choose that parrot.'

‘Why?' I asked, faintly insulted at this implied slur on Ursula's charms.

‘Well, put it this way, guv,' he said, ‘if the parrot got a bit much you could always strangle him. But your lady, well, she's far too beautiful to strangle, i'nt she, ay?'

‘Yes,' I sighed, ‘although the thought has not infrequently crossed my mind.'

He laughed as he drew up outside my hotel and swivelled round to grin at me.

‘She's got you ‘ooked, guv, if you don't mind my saying so. Like a stray dawg we got once. I says to the wife, I says, “We don't want no bleedin' dog, take ‘im to Battersea Dogs' ‘ome,” I says. But d'you know, guv, it was so damn charming we couldn't bear the thought of ‘im being put down. So we've still got ‘im. It's like that with women,' he said, philosophically, ‘once you're ‘ooked you can't bear to ‘ave 'em put down, in a manner of speaking. That'll be three pound eleven and six, guv, please.'

‘The trouble is,' I said, as I paid him, ‘there's no Battersea Dogs' Home I could send her to.'

‘No, but there's always your own ‘ome,' he said, chuckling. ‘Good luck, guv.'

I went up to my room, laid out my best suit and a clean shirt on the bed, together with a rather startling tie brought back as an unexpected present from Lisbon by my brother-in-law, made sure my socks had no holes in them and that my shoes were polished. Taking Ursula out to a meal was always a traumatic affair, so I wanted to be sure I did not commit any social solecisms of my own. Hers were quite enough to cope with.

I got to the Dorchester on the dot of one and I was just straightening my tie and waiting for Ursula's arrival when the head waiter, whom I knew from other occasions, came hurrying towards me.

‘Good morning, Sebastian,' I said, jovially.

‘Good morning, sir. Madam is already at the table.'

This sounded ominous. Ursula was never on time, let alone early. Sebastian led me to a table for four, but there was no sign of Ursula.

‘I think perhaps madam has gone to the powder room,' Sebastian vouchsafed. I sat down, drew up my chair and my feet were brought up short by a metallic clang. I lifted the table-cloth and from within his cage Moses regarded me with disfavour. In two pungent words he told me what to do. My blood ran cold. Sebastian, his eyes on the ceiling, was unsuccessfully trying to conceal a smile behind a menu card.

‘What the hell's this?' I asked.

‘I believe it to be a bird belonging to madam,' said Sebastian suavely, ‘a member of the parrot tribe, so I am told. Madam arrived with it and wished it put beneath the table. Its name, I am informed, is Moses. When it arrived in the foyer, it was quite — er — loquacious and, considering its name, its language was not exactly biblical.'

‘You don't have to tell me,' I said bitterly. ‘How the hell did you get it in here without it insulting all your customers?'

‘With the aid of napkins wrapped round the cage,' said Sebastian. ‘Madam said that darkness had a soothing and soporific effect on the bird and deadened its loquacity and so it appears. Apart from that little exchange with you it has not proffered any remarks since we put it under the table.'

‘But why in God's name did she bring it here?' I asked, exasperatedly.

‘I may be wrong, but I believe madam brought it along in the nature of a surprise present for yourself, sir.'

‘Surprise present?' I snorted. ‘I wouldn't have this bloody bird with a crock of gold.'

‘I must admit . . .' said Sebastian. ‘Ah, here is madam now. She will doubtless explain the presence of — er — Moses, if I may be so bold as to address him by his first name.'

I looked at his twinkling eyes.

‘Sebastian,' I said, ‘madam will have a dry martini and I will have a large Scotch and Perrier. Oh, and if you have any hemlock, bring a beakerful for the parrot.'

He bowed and pulled out a chair as the reason for all my woes approached the table.

‘Hello, darling,' she cried. ‘Aren't you pleased I'm so early?'

‘You're
both
early,' I said ominously. She gave a guilty start.

‘Oh, so you've discovered Moses then?' she said attempting a lighthearted tone.

it would be a bit difficult to miss him,' I said acidly. The toes of both my carefully polished shoes are being scraped to hell under his damn cage, and my left shoe is rapidly filling up with sand and what my limited horticultural knowledge tells me must be sunflower seed. Or it may of course even be manure. Why, might I ask, do we have to have Moses partaking of luncheon with us?'

‘Now, darling, don't start getting angry with me. I hate it when you get angry and starting roaring and snorting like Achilles the Bun.'

‘Attila,' I corrected. I was too dispirited to correct the Bun part. Ursula looked at me and her eyes welled. Two enormous tears, bright as shooting stars, raced down her cheeks.

‘Darling,' she said huskily, ‘I've had a horrible time, so don't be so cruel to me.' I was just about to relent when she added, ‘Or to poor Moses.'

At that moment the drinks arrived and this successfully prevented me from telling her what I thought of ‘poor Moses'. I toasted her in a chilly silence while from those springs she possessed ‘in caverns measureless to man', she allowed two more tears of improbable size to slide down her cheeks. At that moment, before my heart could melt at this display of emotion — which I knew to be entirely spurious — Sebastian appeared, bearing menus and a wine list.

‘Sir, madam,' he said, slightly bowing as he handed out the menus, ‘we have some rather lovely things today. The grilled lambs' kidneys are superb, the oysters Rockefeller are especially large and succulent . . .'

‘Do you have any roast parrot?' I enquired. ‘West African grey for preference.'

Ursula glared at me.

‘You don't eat parrots,' she said.

‘Yes, you do, if you're a West African,' I replied.

To answer your question, sir,' said Sebastian smoothly, ‘we have none on the menu. We have been told that they are tough and indigestible and have the unfortunate effect of making you talk in your sleep.'

Both of us laughed and peace reigned.

‘So tell me why I am having lunch at the Dorchester with what my friend the taxi driver called a pornographic parrot,' I suggested.

‘Well, darling, I got him into my room safely enough, although I had to give the porter an enormous tip because Moses called him — well, never mind. Anyway, I wanted to go out and do a bit of shopping, some things I forgot to bring, and get some fruit for Moses. Then I noticed his water dish was empty, poor dear, and he was obviously thirsty, so I got him a vodka and tonic from the fridge in the bedroom . . .'

‘You got him a
what?'
I interrupted incredulously.

‘A vodka and tonic, darling. You know, that Russian drink the Vulgar boatmen used to have. The sailor I got him from told me he never drank anything else. Well, he must have been dying of thirst, poor lamb, because he simply lapped it up. Then he went into a sort of doze.'

‘I'm not surprised,' I said.

‘So I gave him another one in case he should wake up and still feel thirsty . . .'

‘Another
one!' I interjected. ‘Sweetheart, you must be mad.'

‘But why?' asked Ursula, puzzled. ‘I mean, I don't like vodka, but that's no reason why he shouldn't drink it. After all, I don't see why I should start acting like those Intemperance people telling people what to do.'

‘Quite,' I said.

‘It's that sort of thing that leads to crime,' she explained mysteriously, ‘interfering with people's civil liberties and making them uncivil.'

‘So after you got him fit to be tied, what did you do?' I enquired.

‘Fit to be tied? What does that mean?' she asked.

‘It's an American expression; it means now you'd got him so drunk you had to tie him up.'

‘But I didn't have to tie him up,' she said triumphantly. ‘He fell on the floor of the cage. It gave me quite a shock. I thought he was dead until I heard him snoring.'

‘And then?' I asked, fascinated in spite of myself.

‘Well, I went down to Fortnum and Mason to get his food.'

‘Fortnum and Mason? Why not to some little fruiterers in the back streets round there?'

‘What, and be seen walking into Claridge's with a lot of brown paper bags? Darling, do be sensible.'

‘Well, you didn't seem to mind walking into Claridge's with a brass cage containing a parrot that was singing dirty songs,' I pointed out.

‘But that's quite different, darling, that's a
bird.
You know all the English are animal lovers.'

‘I bet they'd make an exception with Moses,' I said. ‘Anyway, go on. What did you get at Fortnum's?'

‘Well, they had fruit and nuts, of course, and I bought him a big box of liqueur chocolates, because I knew he'd like them. But, you know, darling, how Fortnum's prides itself on having everything in the
world?'

‘So they say,' I agreed.

‘Well, I caught them out. They didn't have the two things that the sailor said Moses particularly liked,' she said.

‘And what were those?'

‘Well, the sailor said that he always fancied a bit of crumpet and Bristol Cities.'

If I could have got my hands on that jolly Jack tar at that moment, his life would have been in grave danger.

‘So?' I said.

‘Well, they said that crumpet was not in season. I didn't know crumpets had a season, darling, did you? Although, come to think of it, all those little holes in them must be where they shoot them, poor little things, so they must be like grouse.'

‘And the other item?'

‘Well, I don't think the man really understood what I meant, because he sent me to the lingerie department.'

‘So what happened next?'

‘Well, I took a taxi back to the hotel. I asked the taxi man if he knew where I could get crumpet and Bristol Cities and he said the only ones he knew of belonged to his wife and she was very attached to them. I asked where she got them and he said they were inherited. Well, I got to Claridge's and the receptionist said that the manager would like to see me. He's a friend of Daddy's so I thought he wanted to give me some flowers or something. So I said I'd see him in my room in five minutes.'

She paused and gazed at her empty glass. I signalled for a refill.

‘Of course, the moment I got out of the lift I knew in a jiffy what the manager wanted to see me about.'

‘Moses?'

‘Yes. He'd woken up and was singing the most
awful
songs you can imagine and you could hear him right down the hall. Well, I rushed to the room but in my panic I dropped the key, then I bent down to pick it up, all my parcels fell out of the carrier and the bag with the oranges split open and there were oranges all over the floor. At that moment the manager arrived.'

She sipped her fresh martini and looked at me with tear-filled eyes.

‘Honestly, darling, I've never been so embarrassed in all my life. There was the manager of Claridge's and me on our hands and knees collecting oranges and inside the room there was Moses bawling out some
disgusting
song about a girl with a bum the size of a b-b-b-bathtub.'