The Collected Short Stories Read online

  Mountbatten chatted and smiled, making no secret of how much he was enjoying himself. He spent a long time talking to Lady Cuthbert, whose husband had served under him at Portsmouth, and to Mick Flaherty, to whom he listened with polite interest.

  Each course surpassed the one before: soufflé, followed by lamb cutlets, and an apricot hazelnut meringue to complete the feast. Mountbatten remarked on every one of the wines, and even called for a second glass of port.

  After dinner, he joined the guests for coffee in the drawing room, and managed to have a word with everyone, even though Colonel Hodges tried to buttonhole him about defense cuts.

  The guests began to leave a few minutes before midnight, and Ted was amused to see that when Mick Flaherty bade farewell to the Admiral, he bowed low and said, “Good night, My Lord. It has been an honor to meet you.”

  Dotty was among the last to depart, and she curtsied low to the guest of honor. “You’ve helped to make this such a pleasant evening, Lady Cuthbert,” Mountbatten told her.

  “If you only knew just how much,” thought Hazel.

  After the under-butler had closed the door on the last guest, Mountbatten turned to his hostess and said, “Hazel, I must thank you for a truly memorable occasion. The head chef at the Savoy couldn’t have produced a finer banquet. Perfect in every part.”

  “You are very kind, sir. I will pass your thanks on to the staff.” She just stopped herself from saying “my staff.” “Is there anything else we can do for you before you retire?”

  “No, thank you,” Mountbatten replied. “It has been a long day, and with your permission, I’ll turn in now.”

  “And at what time would you like breakfast, sir?” asked the governor.

  “Would 7:30 be convenient?” Mountbatten asked. “That will give me time to fly out at nine.”

  “Certainly,” said Ted. “I’ll see that Carruthers brings a light breakfast up to your room at 7:30—unless you’d like something cooked.”

  “A light breakfast will be just the thing,” Mountbatten said. “A perfect evening. Your staff could not have done more, Hazel. Good night, and thank you, my dear.”

  The Governor bowed and his lady curtsied as the great man ascended the staircase two paces behind Carruthers. When the butler closed the door of the Queen Victoria Room, Ted put his arm around his wife and said, “He knows we know.”

  “You may be right,” said Hazel. “But does he know we know he knows?”

  “I’ll have to think about that,” said Ted.

  Arm in arm, they returned to the kitchen, where they found Mrs. Travis packing dishes into a crate under the supervision of Lady Cuthbert, the long lace sleeves of whose evening dress were now firmly rolled up.

  “How did you get back in, Dotty?” asked Hazel.

  “Just walked round to the back yard and came in the servants’ entrance,” replied Lady Cuthbert.

  “Did you spot anything that went badly wrong?” Hazel asked anxiously.

  “I don’t think so,” replied Lady Cuthbert. “Not unless you count Mick Flaherty failing to get a fourth glass of Muscat de Venise.”

  “Mrs. Travis,” said Ted, “the head chef at the Savoy couldn’t have produced a finer banquet. Perfect in every part. I do no more than repeat Lord Mountbatten’s exact words.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellency,” said Mrs. Travis. “He’s got a big appetite, hasn’t he?” she added with a smile.

  A moment later, Carruthers entered the kitchen. He checked round the room, which was spotless once again, then turned to Ted and said, “With your permission, sir, we will take our leave.”

  “Of course,” said the governor. “And may I thank you, Carruthers, for the role you and your amazing team have played. You all did a superb job. Lord Mountbatten never stopped remarking on it.”

  “His Lordship is most kind, sir. At what time would you like us to return in the morning to prepare and serve his breakfast?”

  “Well, he asked for a light breakfast in his room at 7:30.”

  “Then we will be back by 6:30,” said Carruthers.

  Hazel opened the kitchen door to let them all out, and they humped crates full of crockery and baskets full of food to the waiting cars. The last person to leave was Dotty, who was clutching the silver pheasant. Hazel kissed her on both cheeks as she departed.

  “I don’t know how you feel, but I’m exhausted,” said Ted, bolting the kitchen door.

  Hazel checked her watch. It was seventeen minutes past one.

  “Shattered,” she admitted. “So, let’s try and grab some sleep, because we’ll also have to be up by seven to make sure everything is ready before he leaves for the airport.”

  Ted put his arm back around his wife’s waist. “A personal triumph for you, my dear.”

  They strolled into the hall and wearily began to climb the stairs, but didn’t utter another word, for fear of disturbing their guest’s repose. When they reached the landing, they came to an abrupt halt, and stared down in horror at the sight that greeted them. Three pairs of black leather shoes had been placed neatly in line outside the Queen Victoria Room.

  “Now I’m certain he knows,” said Hazel.

  Ted nodded and, turning to his wife, whispered, “You or me?”

  Hazel pointed a finger firmly at her husband. “Definitely you, my dear,” she said sweetly, before disappearing in the direction of the Nelson Room.

  Ted shrugged his shoulders, picked up the admiral’s shoes, and returned downstairs to the kitchen.

  His excellency the governor and commander in chief of St. George’s spent a considerable time polishing those three pairs of shoes, as he realized that not only must they pass inspection by an Admiral of the Fleet, but they must look as if the job had been carried out by Carruthers.

  When Mountbatten returned to the Admiralty in Whitehall the following Monday, he made a full written report on his visit to St George’s. Copies were sent to the queen and the foreign secretary.

  The Admiral told the story of his visit at a family gathering that Saturday evening at Windsor Castle, and once the laughter had died down, the queen asked him, “When did you first become suspicious?”

  “It was Carruthers who gave it away. He knew everything about Sir Ted, except which regiment he had served in. That’s just not possible for an old soldier.”

  The queen had one further question: “Do you think the governor knew you knew?”

  “I can’t be certain, Lillibet,” replied Mountbatten after some thought. “But I intend to leave him in no doubt that I did.”

  The Foreign Secretary laughed uproariously when he read Mountbatten’s report, and appended a note to the last sheet asking for clarification on two points:

  a. How can you be certain that the staff who served dinner were not part of the governor’s entourage?

  b. Do you think Sir Ted knew that you knew?

  The admiral replied by return:

  a. After dinner, one of the maids asked Lady Barker if she took sugar in her coffee, but a moment later she gave Lady Cuthbert two lumps, without needing to ask.

  b. Possibly not. But he certainly will on Christmas Day.

  Sir Ted was pleased to receive a Christmas card from Lord Mountbatten, signed, “Best wishes, Dickie. Thank you for a memorable stay.” It was accompanied by a gift.

  Hazel unwrapped the little parcel to discover a tin of Cherry Blossom shoe polish (black). Her only comment was, “So now we know he knew.”

  “Agreed,” said Ted with a grin. “But did he know we knew he knew? That’s what I’d like to know.”

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  Women are naturally superior to men, and Consuela Rosenheim was no exception.

  Victor Rosenheim, an American banker, was Consuela’s third husband, and the gossip columns on both sides of the Atlantic were suggesting that, like a chain smoker with cigarettes, the former Colombian model was already searching for her next spouse before she had extracted the last gasp from the old one. Her first two h