Marrying Off Mother by Gerald Durrell Read Free Book Online

think of everything.’
    â€˜I suppose not,’ I said thoughtfully.
    My ecclesiastical investigations with Fred were, to my sorrow, cut short by the arrival of Miz Magnolia, who came bustling in to tell me that the hall was not in any way, shape or form disconambulated, and that the cream of Memphis society would be expecting me on stage in an hour’s time.
    â€˜You have just time for a Coca-Cola,’ she said coyly.
    It seemed to me that since my arrival in Memphis I had done nothing but imbibe the Demon Drink in vast quantities, but nevertheless I had one more heart-warming libation before my appearance.
    My lecture was a wild success. Not, I fear, because of its riveting content but because of my axe-cent.
    Tour axe-cent is really something else,’ said a large, red-faced, white-whiskered man to me afterwards. ‘It’s really and truly, sir, something else. It’s surely exciting, you know — like that guy, what’s his name — yes, William Shakespeare.’
    â€˜Thank you,’ I said.
    â€˜Have you ever thought of moving down South and becoming an American?’ he asked. ‘With an axe-cent like yours we’d surely welcome yew.’
    I said that I was gratified; the thought had not occurred to me, but I would bear it in mind.
    The next morning, suffering I regret to say from a hangover, due to over-indulgence in Southern hospitality, I made my way in a somewhat fragile state downstairs to breakfast, where I found them all assembled round a highly polished table, glittering with silver like a mountain brook, and Fred in attendance.
    â€˜Oh,’ said Great Aunt Dorinda, ‘this is mah husband Mr Rochester.’
    â€˜We have met, Dorinda,’ said Great Uncle Rochester. ‘This gallant gentleman helped me fend off the rebel horde of Yankees last night.’
    â€˜That must have been nice for yew both,’ said Aunt Dorinda. ‘Ah do think it’s lovely when yew can share things together.’
    â€˜Did you get a good night’s sleep?’ asked Miz Magnolia, ignoring the other two.
    â€˜Splendid,’ I said, as Fred helped me to a tiny Southern breakfast of six slices of bacon, crisp and fragrant as autumn leaves, four eggs, gleaming like newly emerged suns, eight pieces of toast engulfed in butter and a large, glittering, trembling spoonful of lemon preserve.
    â€˜I am going to get the latest news,’ said Great Uncle Rochester, rising and drawing his dressing gown around him.
    â€˜Will yew be back for lunch or still fighting?’ asked Great Aunt Dorinda.
    â€˜Madam, a war cannot be hurried,’ said Great Uncle Rochester, sternly.
    â€˜No, no, ah realize that,’ said Great Aunt Dorinda, ‘but ah just wanted to know about the ice cream.’
    â€˜There are more important things on my mind, woman, than ice cream,’ said Great Uncle Rochester. ‘Is it vanilla or strawberry?’
    â€˜Strawberry,’ said Great Aunt Dorinda.
    â€˜I’ll have two scoops and some nutcake,’ said Great Uncle Rochester, and took his leave of us, while Great Aunt Dorinda went to the kitchen.
    â€˜Ah do declare, ah do not know what things are coming to,’ said Miz Magnolia, perusing the local paper. ‘Now they’ve got a nigger they want to make the mayor.’
    I glanced uneasily at the door through which Fred had disappeared.
    â€˜If you ask my opinion, we are ruled by a bunch of white trash and niggers — we really are — white trash and niggers,’ she said, sipping her coffee.
    â€˜Tell me, Miz Magnolia, in view of the sensitivity of black people today, do you think it wise to talk like that when Fred’s about?’ I asked.
    â€˜Talk like what?’ she said, turning enormous puzzled eyes on me.
    â€˜Well, talking about niggers and so on.’ ‘But Fred’s not a nigger,’ she said indignantly.
    I wondered for a brief moment if she was, perhaps,