High Water (1959) Read Free

don’t look after yourself, nobody else will!’
    As he drove skilfully through the traffic of Piccadilly, he casually questioned his passenger about the boat, the business difficulties, and even though Vivian knew he was being thoroughly interrogated, he answered readily, only too glad to be able to talk to someone about his fears.
    ‘Hm, you have got yourself into a mess, haven’t you?’ murmured Lang thoughtfully at the end. ‘You say you haven’t actually seen the broker chappie yet?’
    Vivian nodded.
    ‘Well, that’s that, then.’
    Vivian turned, suddenly wild. ‘What d’you mean, “that’s that then”? You mean you couldn’t care less, is that it?’, he exploded.
    He was suddenly aware that Lang was shaking, vibrating would be a truer word. His cheeks puffed out, his eyes crinkled and watered, until he suddenly burst out laughing, in his familiar braying guffaws, so that he had to swerve violently to avoid a taxi.
    Vivian sat watching dumbly, wishing that the car would stop, so that he could jump out, or drive his fist into Lang’s gleaming teeth.
    With a great effort, Lang stopped his laughter, and pulled in to the kerb by a small French restaurant. He turned in his seat, and looked Vivian squarely in the eyes.
    ‘I really am sincerely sorry to have behaved like that, old boy, really sorry. But you see,’ and here he began to chuckle again, ‘can help you!’
    As Vivian still didn’t speak, he repeated, ‘I can help you to get that money, and you can help me too at the same time.’
    He saw the incredulous look stealing across Vivian’s face.
    ‘It’s all on the level. This really is our lucky day. Still, come into the joint here, and I’ll tell you about it over our grub.’
    They left the car and entered the small, dimly lit restaurant, where a languid young man sat softly playing a piano, and two couples slowly circled the tiny dance floor.
    As they settled themselves in one of the curtained alcoves, Lang began to talk.
    ‘It’s like this, old friend,’ he began. ‘After the war, with a little bit of influence, and a little bit of you-know-what, I took over the managership of the London branch of the Europa Travel Agency. I expect you’ve heard of it, even down in Torquay?’
    Vivian nodded. It was difficult not to have heard of the most go-ahead agency in the business.
    ‘Yes, I see your posters everywhere. They really are something out of the ordinary. They seem to leap out at you, if you know what I mean.’
    ‘Ah, there you have it, old boy. The head of the company is an old Danish chap, bit of an invalid, you know, but a brilliant artist. I brought him out of Denmark with a mob of refugees during the war, his niece too, as a matter of fact. You remember, when the Jerries were killing a lot of them off. Anyway, to continue. I ran into him here after the war, and that was that. He started the company with his money, and, believe me, he’s got plenty of that, and I manage the actual travel side of the business. We started with the London office, now, as you know, we’ve got agents on the continent, every blessed where, in fact. The funny thing is, that the Guv’nor still likes to design the posters. It’s about his only pleasure. That, and his niece, and she’s really something. Wow! You wait till you see her. I could do a tumble for her in a big way, I don’t mind telling you, if I wasn’t already fixed up.’
    ‘Married?’ queried Vivian dazedly.
    ‘Married? Me? Do us a favour, old boy! Marriage is all right for some, but let’s face it, matrimony and I are like whisky and vinegar, we don’t mix!’
    ‘Well, I must say you seem to have done a damn sight better than I have, Felix, but I still don’t see where I come in.’
    Lang leaned seriously over the table, his eyes searching. ‘Among other things, we arrange a lot of cruises on hired yachts, and I could keep you busy all next season, if you’re interested. Wait!’ He waved an admonitory finger as Vivian