'Yes, I remember!' said Jimmy, which made us both laugh out loud as we entered the drawing room where Uncle Gordon awaited us. He rose from his chair and I was surprised to see that he had changed into the undress uniform of the Third Lancashire Rifles, a volunteer regiment of which he was a lieutenant colonel.
'Ah, here come the young people,' beamed Uncle Gordon, shaking hands with Jimmy. 'James, good to see you again, my boy. Now I would like you and Rosie to meet an unexpected guest who is dining with us tonight, Mr. Andrew Bennett. Rosie, you know Mr. Bennett, of course. Andy, may I introduce the Honourable James Horobin; James this is Mr. Andrew Bennett who is a friend and neighbour of the family. His good lady wife has unfortunately been called to the bedside of a sick relative so naturally I invited him to break bread with us this evening.'
Mr. Bennett was a pleasant gentleman, somewhat younger than Uncle Gordon, and as neither he nor Jimmy were shy, we all got along famously. Sayers poured out drinks for us but whilst the men downed Bucks Fizz I preferred to sip mineral water. Of course the conversation turned to the recordings Uncle Gordon and Mr. Bennett had made that afternoon of rustic folk songs and apparently an unfortunate incident had marred the proceedings.
As we strolled into the dining-room, And (as the genial Mr. Bennett insisted we called him) told us of the afternoon's happenings at his home. Whilst we tucked into Mrs. Moser's delicious Continental hors d'oeuvres-chopped eggs and onions mixed with a small amount of boiled potato – Andy entertained us with the following anecdote: 'The recordings of Sussex folk song started well enough although at first the yokels were somewhat in awe of the apparatus and as we had thought, they needed to loosen up. So your uncle and I decided to have a barrel of beer brought in and we invited the singers to help themselves. Well, my word, I've never seen drinking like it-not even at the annual dinner we give the farmworkers at the harvest festival.'
'And still they gazed and still the wonder grew, that such small frames could carry so much brew!' misquoted Uncle Gordon with a short laugh, though this criticism did not prevent him motioning Sayers to refill our glasses with more champagne. 'But we certainly got the lads to sing though I hardly think we can release the results for public consumption.'
'Why not, Lord MacChesney?' asked Jimmy. 'Did the drink make their rustic dialect unintelligible?'
'Far from it-the words were all too clear! To give you an example, I heard choruses from “The Jolly Three Ladies of Huxham” that I could hardly repeat even in front of the most liberally minded audience.'
Perhaps it was Mrs. Moser's tasty food which kept Sayers busy refilling our glasses but when I excused myself before our main course to wash my hands, it obviously had taken only a few minutes coaxing from Jimmy to persuade Andy Bennett to give a rendition of the rather rude verses. I opened the door slightly and saw him stand up and sing:
'The jolly three ladies of Huxham,
Whenever we meets 'em we fucks 'em,
And when that game grows stale
We sits on a rail
And pulls out our pricks and they sucks 'em.
Now the poor little vicar of Huxham,
Had a cock which though thick was a short 'un,
He made up for his loss,
By having balls like a horse,
And he never spent less than a quartern.
But those three jolly girls from old Huxham,
This is the true story about 'em.
They lifted the frock
And tickled the cock
Of the vicar about to confirm 'em!
Then out spoke a young girl out of the blue,
Who said, as the churchman withdrew,
“My vicar is quicker
And slicker and thicker
And longer and stronger than you.”'
Jimmy roared with laughter and said: 'I do hope you recorded that fine song for posterity, Andy, I have several friends that would be delighted to purchase copies though I dare say it might be difficult to find a store that would put the record on general sale.'
'You could always sell copies through the columns of The Oyster,' Jimmy suggested. 'I think you would coin it in.'
Uncle Gordon nodded. 'That would be a good idea if we needed to make some money but thank goodness I couldn't spend all I have even if I live to be a hundred.'
'Fair enough, Lord MacChesney, but that reminds me of the story of Sir Charles and Lady Farnesbarnes-do either of you know it? No, well, it appears that one day Sir Charles came home and said to his lady wife: 'My dear, I'm afraid I have lost a great deal of money in unwise speculation and we must immediately make drastic cuts in our household expenditure. To begin with I suggest for a start that we dismiss the cook and you learn to prepare our meals yourself.'
'“Very well,” said Lady Farnesbarnes, “but only on the condition that you sack the chauffeur and learn how to fuck!” '
This jest was much appreciated by the other two gentlemen but when Uncle Gordon saw me enter the room he hastily changed the course of the conversation to far less interesting matters such as the state of the weather and the health of Mrs. Bennett's sick aunt. Nevertheless I thoroughly enjoyed the splendid repast and after we had finished Jimmy and I decided to go out for a short stroll in the warm evening air.
'Uncle Gordon and Andy Bennett are two game old boys, aren't they?' said Jimmy lightly, as we made our way towards the new garage Papa had built last September for our new Mercedes motor vehicles he had bought on a trip to Berlin. When we neared the garage, however, I noticed that the doors were unlocked and I whispered to Jimmy: 'Should we raise an alarm? We may have found burglars on the job.'
'On the job maybe,' I said carefully. 'But I'D wager that we have not been troubled by intruders. Listen to that noise carefully, can you not distinguish the sounds of breaking and entering from the whimpers and liquid sounds of a couple engaged in making love?'
Jimmy cupped an ear and listened intently and then turned to me with a grin. 'By George, you're right, Rosie! The only breaking and entering going on in there is that of a cock sliding into a juicy pussey!'
I suppose that we really should not have eavesdropped but as Jimmy said at the time, it was just possible that we may have been mistaken and that someone was trying to steal our lovely new motor car. So we crept up quietly and Jimmy opened the door very slightly and a flood of light spilled out. It only took a swift glance round the door to confirm my original theory-the strapping young footman Jack Dennison had sneaked away from the house with Kathie, the bouncy little kitchenmaid and together the pair were writhing half-naked on a couple of blankets filched no doubt from the housekeeper's stores. Jimmy was about to speak but I put my finger to his lips. 'Now, you wouldn't like to be interrupted at such a time, would you darling?' I whispered.
So we watched with mounting interest as the pretty girl slipped out of Dennison's embrace to lay on her back and pull down her chemise. The material fell away from her large milky-white breasts which she touched lightly, her fingers brushing the nipples softly and then passing upwards to run through her hair. This movement of the girl's arms made her breasts lift with the flushed pink circle which ran around each nipple heightening its colour, framing the erect little teat at its centre. The two lovely orbs of her ripe young breasts gently bumped together as Kathie lowered her arms again. She then wriggled out of her knickers and ran her hand through the curly brown triangle of pussey hair that covered her cunt.