The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh Read Free Book Online

see you again?”
    “The day after tomorrow. You had better come a little before the leave-taking to see that everything is as you wish.”
    “Who shall I ask for?”
    “Just say the cosmetician of the Orchid Room.”
    “No name?”
    “No name is necessary.”
    She left him and the forgotten hostess returned.
    “Mr. Barlow, I have the Zone Guide ready to take you to the site.”
    Dennis awoke from a deep abstraction. “Oh, I’ll take the site on trust,” he said. “To tell you the truth, I think I’ve seen enough for one day.”

Four
    D ennis sought and obtained leave of absence from the Happier Hunting Ground for the funeral and its preliminaries. Mr. Schultz did not give it readily. He could ill spare Dennis; more motor-cars were coming off the assembly lines, more drivers appearing on the roads and more pets in the mortuary; there was an outbreak of food poisoning in Pasadena. The ice-box was packed and the crematorium fires blazed early and late.
    “It is really very valuable experience for me, Mr. Schultz,” Dennis said, seeking to extenuate the reproach of desertion. “I see a great deal of the methods of Whispering Glades and am picking up all kinds of ideas we might introduce here.”
    “What for you want new ideas?” asked Mr. Schultz. “Cheaper fuel, cheaper wages, harder work, that is all the new ideas I want. Look, Mr. Barlow, we got all of the trade of the coast. There’s nothing in our class between San Francisco andthe Mexican border. Do we get people to pay 5,000 dollars for a pet’s funeral? How many pay 500? Not two in a month. What do most of our clients say? ‘Burn him up cheap, Mr. Schultz, just so the city don’t have him and make me ashamed.’ Or else it’s a fifty-dollar grave and headstone inclusive of collection. There ain’t the demand for fancy stuff since the war, Mr. Barlow. Folks pretend to love their pets, talk to them like they was children, along comes a citizen with a new auto, floods of tears, and then it’s ‘Is a headstone really socially essential, Mr. Schultz?’ ”
    “Mr. Schultz, you’re jealous of Whispering Glades.”
    “And why wouldn’t I be seeing all that dough going on relations they’ve hated all their lives, while the pets who’ve loved them and stood by them, never asked no questions, never complained, rich or poor, sickness or health, get buried anyhow like they was just animals? Take your three days off, Mr. Barlow, only don’t expect to be paid for them on account you’re thinking up some fancy ideas.”
    *
    The coroner caused no trouble. Dennis gave his evidence; the Whispering Glades van carried off the remains; Sir Ambrose blandly managed the press. Sir Ambrose, also, with the help of other prominent Englishmen composed the Order of the Service. Liturgy in Hollywood is the concern of the Stage rather than of the Clergy. Everyone at the Cricket Club wanted a part.
    “There should be a reading from the Works,” said Sir Ambrose. “I’m not sure I can lay my hand on a copy at the moment. These things disappear mysteriously when one moves house. Barlow, you are a literary chap. No doubt you can find a suitable passage. Something I’d suggest that gives one the essence of the man we knew—his love of nature, his fair play, you know.”
    “Did Frank love nature or fair play?”
    “Why, he must have done. Great figure in letters and all that; honored by the king.”
    “I don’t ever remember seeing any of his works in the house.”
    “Find something, Barlow. Just some little personal scrap. Write it yourself if necessary. I expect you know his style. And, I say, come to think of it, you’re a poet. Don’t you think this is just the time to write something about old Frank? Something I can recite at the graveside, you know. After all, damn it, you owe it to him—and to us. It isn’t much to ask. We’re doing all the donkey work.”
    “Donkey work” was the word, thought Dennis as he watched the cricketers compiling the list