Last Ditch
“Good evening. We meet again. Ha-ha.’ She looked at him with contempt. He said to Mr Jones: ‘We met at luncheon up at L’Esperance.’ ‘Oh Christ!’ Mr Jones said in a tone of utter disgust. And to Miss Harkness, ‘What the hell were you doing up there?’ ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled. ‘I came away.’ ‘So I should bloody hope. Had they got some things of mine up there?’ ‘Yes.’ He grunted and disappeared through a door at the far end of the room. Ricky attempted a conversation with Miss Harkness but got nowher...e with it. She said something inaudible and retired upon a record-player where she made a choice and released a cacophony.
Mr Jones returned. He dropped on to a sort of divan bed covered with what looked like a horse-rug. He seemed to be inexplicably excited.
‘Take a chair,’ he yelled at Ricky.
Ricky took an armchair, misjudging the distance between his person and the seat, which, having lost its springs, thudded heavily on the floor. He landed in a ludicrous position, his knees level with his ears.MoreLess
Mr Jones returned. He dropped on to a sort of divan bed covered with what looked like a horse-rug. He seemed to be inexplicably excited.
‘Take a chair,’ he yelled at Ricky.
Ricky took an armchair, misjudging the distance between his person and the seat, which, having lost its springs, thudded heavily on the floor. He landed in a ludicrous position, his knees level with his ears.MoreLess
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