Padraig lay back and lit a proletariat cigarette each for him and Lola-they inhaled in unison and Lola breathed out a series of elegant smoke rings which merged beautifully with the smoke triangles that her socialist lover exhaled.
“Not that I’m complaining,” said Padraig languidly, “but I only wanted to borrow a book.”
Lola gave him a sideways glare without even turning her head from beneath her tumbled mane of wavy black hair. Padraig only raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
She sighed, smoked the cigarette quickly down to the end, and threw herself at him again.
Bunty had Gangee get the Daimler out of mothballs and had established herself on the back seat with travelling rug and cake and a rather ugly hat that Lola had said was so her.
They were parked across from Lola’s offices and Bunty had brought an elephant gun and a ships telescope; she was trailing Lola as she had doubts as to the apparent good will of Dorking, because if Lola didn’t remember their time at the circus and the blindfolded exploding knife throwing act that started the Suez Canal crisis somehow, then she jolly well did.
She noted Padraig Marshland entering the offices an hour earlier and hoped that Lola was giving him a jolly good seeing to .
Dorking was ensconced in the local hotel the Randy Squire Inn-named after one of Bunty’s descendants, Roger de Cabin Boye Tuff Muffin who was never discussed by anyone except Bingo, for obvious reasons.
He had lost the keys to his car and was locked out of his room and was standing in the duck pond in the village in the tattered remnants of his pajamas bellowing like a moose and hitting himself in the face, so obviously this was all Lola’s fault.
Although he had no romantic feelings towards her he decided that in his infirm state that he needed someone to nurse him and the Gefilter woman had lots of money and should foot the bill to look after him.
He had changed his mind-he would never give her a divorce now.
Lola lay back contentedly on the chaise longue that she had thoughtfully installed in her office with Mr Marshland in a considerable cloud of smoke.
“So a book you said?” she asked disarmingly.
“Yes, Miss, I mean Lola, there’s a case I’m concerned with involving an odd character called Mr Mumbles who is oppressing the workers and I wanted to look up something about employment law.” said Padraig.
Lola gazed into his rather bovine eyes for a while admiring his long lashes, but wishing he would shave more often and moisturise.
“I know!” she said excitedly and rather violently, “I’m a lady barrister and have had no cases yet so I shall help! We can spend ever so much time together.” she drawled.
Padraig raised his eyebrow, looked thoughtfully into the middle distance, lit another cigarette and contemplated Lola’s practically indecent proposal.
“Yes.” he said, “yes Lola let’s do it!”
And they did.