Confessions from an Escort Agency. Rosie Dixon

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СКАЧАТЬ the younger dons do in the privacy of their rooms is their own business. We live in the twentieth century and provided that it does not hurt anyone else I think that people should be allowed to do what they like.

      Despite the questionable behaviour of the junior dons the thought of visiting Oxford appeals to me tremendously. I have always dreamed of going to one of those big balls when everyone dances on the lawns and drinks champagne till the early hours of the morning before climbing into a punt and rowing down to Rochester for breakfast. I wonder if Penny’s party will be like that? Whatever happens, it will be marvellous to see the inside of an Oxford College. By the time I put the telephone down, I am really excited and I can hardly wait to see the expression on Natalie’s face when I tell her where I am going. She will be green with envy. I am on my way to spread the good news when the phone rings again. Curse the thing! I have not got a lot of time to waste if I am going to catch that train.

      ‘Hello,’ I say, slightly irritably.

      ‘Rosie? Is that you? It’s Geoffrey here. What a smashing surprise. I was ringing up to find out when you were coming home?’

      ‘In a few days,’ I say. I wish I could sound more welcoming but I am a bit annoyed at how Geoffrey let me down when he turned out to be Penny. It is a very shabby thing to interfere with someone’s telepathy.

      ‘But you are home,’ says Geoffrey sounding puzzled.

      ‘I’m going down – I mean, up to Oxford,’ I say, practising the delivery I will be using with Natalie. ‘I’m going to stay with some people in the country.’

      ‘Are you free this evening?’ says Geoffrey. ‘I thought we might go to the flicks. There’s a smashing movie called Confessions of a Window Cleaner. Very funny.’

      ‘Confessions of a Window Cleaner!?’ I say. ‘Do you really think I’d go and see something like that? I can just imagine what it’s like. Nudity and filth.’ How insensitive of Geoffrey to mention something like that when I have told him that I am going to Oxford. He exposes himself sometimes.

      ‘It was just a thought,’ he says. ‘We could always go and see “Thud”. It’s a fearless exposure of the man behind all the fearless exposures of police corruption and brutality.’

      ‘Thank you, Geoffrey,’ I say, politely. ‘But I’m afraid my train leaves at six. There won’t be time to go anywhere.’

      ‘Oh dear. What a shame. I was so excited when I heard your voice.’ My heart softens. He is not a bad old stick. ‘Do you think Natalie would like to see Confessions of a Window Cleaner?’

      My heart hardens. Not only insensitive but tactless to boot.

      ‘Why don’t you ask her?’ I say icily. ‘She’s just popped out to buy a tin of Valderma. She’ll be back in a minute.’ Something about my tone must tell Geoffrey that he has caused offence.

      ‘Don’t get shirty, old girl,’ he pleads.

      ‘Don’t call me “old girl”!’ I rant. ‘It sets my teeth on edge.’

      ‘Sorry, old girl – I mean, look—’ There is a pause while Geoffrey splutters. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t I run you to the station? It’s not an easy journey and it will give us a chance to have a talk. Also,’ Geoffrey begins to sound pleased with himself, ‘you’ll be able to see my new motor.’

      ‘Not that Japanese thing?’ I say.

      ‘No, I got rid of that. It occurred to me that it was a bit unpatriotic to run a foreign car when our motor industry was struggling.’

      ‘What made you suddenly think of that?’

      ‘Some bloke kept chucking notes through the windows.’

      ‘I can’t see why that influenced you.’

      ‘They were wrapped round bricks.’

      Poor Geoffrey! He does seem to attract trouble like a magnet. I should be warned really.

      ‘The doors were very difficult to open from the inside, weren’t they?’ I say.

      ‘No handles, you mean?’ says Geoffrey. ‘Yes, I think that had something to do with it being made by the people who turned out those Kami Kaze planes.’

      ‘Uum,’ I say. I am thinking about Geoffrey’s offer. It is a long way to Paddington and a lift would be a big help. ‘Do you think you could get round here in half an hour?’

      When Geoffrey turns up it is in an old Daimler that looks like a hearse. I feel that I am going to be taken to Paddington cemetery rather than the station.

      ‘Plenty of room, eh?’ says Geoffrey proudly.

      ‘Have you got the other one in the back?’ I say. ‘It’s enormous.’

      ‘Guzzles petrol but it’s rather a splendid old bus,’ says Geoffrey. ‘Have you got your case?’

      Mum pops out the minute that Geoffrey crosses the threshold, because she reckons that he is a wonderful catch for me. ‘Isn’t she a lucky girl?’ She trills. ‘Always gadding off somewhere. My, my. Isn’t that a beautiful old car. Is it yours, Geoffrey?’

      ‘Just about.’ Geoffrey shuffles from one foot to the other and makes funny faces as if he is trying to swallow something.

      ‘You are going to be in demand.’ Mum looks at me. ‘You’re lucky that Geoffrey has the time to spare to take you to the station.’

      ‘We’d better be going, I think,’ I say, before Mum can start calling the banns.

      ‘Yes.’ Geoffrey knocks the telephone off the table and dives down with Mum to pick it up. There is a painful crack of heads and I walk out and put my suitcase in the car. As I do so, Dad appears looking as if the cares of the world weigh heavily on his shoulders.

      ‘Are you coming or going?’ he says.

      ‘I’m going to stay in the country for a few days,’ I say.

      ‘Is it the holidays already?’ he says.

      ‘The school had to close down. It was all a bit of a—’

      Dad holds up his hands. ‘Don’t tell me. I can imagine. You’re out of a job again, that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it?’

      ‘If you put it like that, yes,’ I say. Dad’s parents obviously never put him through charm school. He hasn’t even said ‘hello’ yet. ‘I’m going to discuss a new job with the people I’m staying with.’

      Luckily, before I have to get involved in any embarrassing details, Geoffrey comes out of the house. ‘Evening Mr Dixon,’ he says, stepping into a flowerbed so that Dad can pass.

      ‘That’s one of my wallflowers you’ve got your foot on,’ says Dad.

      ‘Oh, I am sorry.’ Geoffrey takes another step backwards and sits down in the garden pool.

      I close my eyes. This does not bode well for our trip to the station.

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