Keith coloured. He cast a quick look at Lucasta. She smiled back benignly.
“Sao ya had a nanny, did ya?” Keith
dug at Jason, annoyed at being embarrassed in front of Lucasta whom he rather
admired.
“Yeah.
And I learnt French from
her. Dialect. When I go and stay with her they think I’m a
local.”
“Oi never had the chance to learn
French,” said Keith mutinously.
“I’m teaching him,” said Esmé, linking
her arm through his.
“You learnt something better,” said
Jason, “you learnt to survive and yet keep your compassion and love of
mankind.” Ignoring Keith’s discomfited
glower, he went on, talking to the others, “You should see him when we get
trouble in the bar. It’s never—hardly
ever—bad trouble, but somebody gets a bit overactive sometimes and then Keith
gets them back in line. Amazing. Just with words. And a little sarcasm. Well, sometimes quite a lot of sarcasm. He hardly ever has to bring out the cricket
bat.”
“Oi’ll bring out the cricket bat on you, sunshoin!” said Keith, embarrassed
but smiling, too.
“Promises, promises.” Jason leered at him.
“You must ignore these reprobates,
Graeme,” said Esmé. “They’re just
showing off!”
No comments:
Post a Comment