The Complete Short Stories by Muriel Spark Read Free Book Online Page A

said
Greta to Daphne, ‘that what you are proposing is illegal. You realize that, don’t
you?’
    ‘I can give you a week’s
money in lieu of notice,’ Daphne said, ‘and a little extra.’
    ‘You agreed to stay till
the end of June, my dear. I have it in black and white.’ This was true. Daphne
realized how deliberately her letter of confirmation from the country had been
extracted from her.
    ‘My uncle has had some
unforeseen expenses. My cousins were murdered by the Mau Mau, and their sons —’
    ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but
one just can’t be sentimental. It’s not like taking in ordinary lodgers. A
Season is a Season, and one can’t get another girl at this time of the year.
Look what I’ve done for you. Parties, the races, meeting important people … No,
sorry, I can’t consider releasing you from the obligation. I’ve arranged a
cocktail party at Claridge’s for you next week. After all, I don’t make
anything out of it. Mercy Slater charges fifteen hundred to bring a girl out.’
    This put Daphne off her
stroke, it prompted her to haggle: ‘Lady Slater gives balls for her debs.’
    Greta rapidly got in: ‘You
surely didn’t expect the full deb process in your position?’
    ‘Mole is calling for me,’
Daphne said.
    ‘I don’t want to keep
you against your will, Daphne. But if you leave now you must compensate me
fully. Then, if you want to go away, go away.
    ‘Go’way. Go’way, go to
hell,’ said the budgerigar, which had now risen to its perch.
    ‘And then there’s the
bird,’ said she. ‘I bought it for you this afternoon. I thought you’d be
thrilled.’ She began to weep.
    ‘I don’t want it,’ said
Daphne.
    ‘All my girls have
adored their pets,’ Greta said.
    ‘Come here darling,’ said
the bird. ‘Go’way, go to hell.’
    Greta was doing a sum. ‘The
bird is twenty guineas. Then there’s the extra clothes I’ve ordered —’
    ‘Go’way. Go’way,’ said
the bird.
    Mole arrived. Daphne
placed a cheque for twenty pounds on the hall table and slipped down to his
car, leaving him to cope with her bags. ‘You will hear from my solicitors,’
Greta called after her.
    Michael was hanging
about in the hail. He took the scene calmly. He giggled at Daphne, then went to
help Mole with the luggage.
    They had been driving
for ten minutes before they had to stop for a traffic light. Then, when the
engine stopped, Daphne heard the budgerigar chirping at the back of the car.
    ‘You’ve brought the
bird!’ she said.
    ‘Yes. Isn’t it yours?
Michael told me it was yours.
    ‘I’ll ring the pet shop,’
she said, ‘and ask them to take it back. Do you think Greta Casse will sue me?’
    ‘She hasn’t a hope,’
said Mole. ‘Forget it.’
    Daphne rang the pet shop
next morning from the country.
    ‘This is Mrs Casse
speaking,’ she said with a nasal voice. ‘I bought a budgerigar from you
yesterday. So silly of me, I’ve forgotten what I paid you, and I’d like to know,
just for my records.’
    ‘Mrs Greta Casse?’
    ‘That’s right.’
    ‘I don’t think we sold a
budgie yesterday, Mrs Casse. Just a moment, I’ll inquire.’
    After a pause another,
more authoritative, person came on the line. ‘You’re inquiring about a
budgerigar, Mrs Casse?’
    ‘Yes, I bought it
yesterday,’ said Daphne through her nose.
    ‘Not from us, Mrs Casse
— oh, and by the way, Mrs Casse…’
    ‘Yes,’ twanged Daphne.
    ‘While you’re on the
phone, I’d like to mention the account.’
    ‘Of course. How much is
it? I’ll send a cheque.’
    ‘Eighty guineas — that’s
of course including the toy poodle.’
    ‘Ah, yes. What exactly
was the sum for the poodle? I’m so scatty about these things.’
    ‘The poodle was sixty.
Then there was an amount last October—’
    ‘Thanks. I’m sure it’s
quite correct. I’ll send a cheque.’
    ‘You have stolen that
bird, I know,’ said Aunt Sarah that afternoon, giving the cage a shove.
    ‘No,’ said Daphne, ‘I
paid for