Helga's Web by Jon Cleary Read Free Book Online Page B

didn’t have to be worked
    at, and one of their daughter Margaret taken the day she had graduated, the day she had told him she no longer believed anything he would ever tell her. I had every opportunity for happiness, he thought, and IVe buggered it. And started to feel sorry for himself, something he would have despised in himself on any other day.
    The conversation of the others spun on about the coming trip, meaningless words clouding the room, while Savanna sat back beside Josie, his eyes half-shut, and began to half-dream, a dream that after a while took on some of the chill of a nightmare as he realized what was taking shape, like a sudden tumor, in his mind. And all because a tight-fisted old scoundrel, instead of using some of his money where it would come in handy, was going to give a free trip abroad to an unctuous fat little priest whom probably the Vatican couldn’t stand. He stared glazedly across at Gibson and wondered how the old man would respond to the suggestion that Helga had frivolously made this morning. Twenty thousand dollars, Les. That’s all I want, and I shan’t say a word about the drugs your men are bringing in. Twenty thousand dollars, Les, and I might even join Wrigley in saying a prayer for you.
    “We must be going,” said Glenda. “We’re putting Jack to sleep.”
    She stood up, giving him no time to make a polite protest. Gibson also stood up, glad of the opportunity to be gone; he had never acquired a taste for the bon-bons of small talk. Father Wrigley rose more reluctantly, knowing he was soon going to be dismissed, dropped off at the presbytery to return to the company of the two older priests whose only talk was of cards, football and the Holy Father’s problems with the upstarts of the Church. Oh, wait till he told them tonight he was going off on leave to Rome!
    He shook hands with his host, aware that Savanna hated him as much as if he were some fire-eating Redemptorist who had forced his way into the house on some evangelical mis-
    sion. Why, and all he wanted was a little social ecumenism! “It’s been a pleasure, Mr. Savanna.”
    “You should come up here sometime before we go, Father,” said Glenda, acting like a Mother Superior. “Have a talk with Jack.”
    “What about?” asked Savanna; and even Father Wrigley looked blank.
    “The Church, of course,” said Glenda, and looked at Josie for support.
    But Josie shook her head, and Father Wrigley looked relieved: he was not built for the role of evangelist. “Jack’s all right as he is.”
    “Well—” said Glenda, making it apparent she thought otherwise. She put on her coat and gloves, straightened her hat, picked up her small elegant parasol. Christ, Savanna thought, she’s become a typical society matron, making every outing look like Ladies’ Day at the races.
    “You should get Les to church more often,” said Josie, and Savanna loved her for the sweet delicate way she placed the barb. “Especially if he’s going to have a personal chaplain.”
    Gibson winked at Josie, an evil grimace. “Your point, Josie. You two women can go off to Mass as much as you like. Me and Jack will say our prayers over a beer.”
    “Would you care to have me join you?” said Wrigley brightly.
    “You better stick to the women,” said Gibson, nodding at the Savannas and heading for the front door. “They’re the ones keep you fellers in business.”
    Glenda straightened her hat again, as if it had been blown off center by her husband’s rudeness to the priest, salvaged a smile for the Church, kissed Josie affectionately, pecked at Savanna as if she would prefer to bite him, and followed her husband out to their car. Father Wrigley, hide as thick as the cover of a family Bible, shook hands again, complimented Savanna on his whisky and scuttled out to the Rolls before
    Gibson gave the order to the chauffeur to drive away.
    The Savannas stood side by side in their front doorway watching the big black car glide away. It