Lost in a Good Book (Thursday Next 2)

I wasn't impressed by him or his faux charm.

'Think you can change the Whig party's fortunes, Mr Kaine?'

'The party is undergoing something of a restructuring at present,' replied Kaine, fixing me with a serious stare. 'Old ideology has been retired and the party now looks forward to a fresh look at England's political future. Rule by informed patriarch and voting restricted to responsible property owners is the future, Miss Next – ruling by committee has been the death of common sense for far too long.'

'And Wales?' I asked. 'Where do you stand on Wales these days?'

'Wales is historically part of the greater Britain,' announced Kaine in a slightly more guarded manner. 'The Welsh have been flooding the English market with cheap goods and this has to stop – but I have no plans whatsoever for forced unification.'

I stared at him for a moment.

'You have to get into power first, Mr Kaine.'

The smile dropped from his face.

'Thank you for delivering the report, Miss Next,' put in Volescamper hurriedly. 'Can I offer you a drink or something before you go?'

I took the hint and made my way to the front door. I stood and looked at the outside broadcast units thoughtfully. Yorrick Kaine was playing his hand well.

21

Les arts modernes de Swindon, '85

* * *

'The Very Irreverent Joffy Next was the minister for the Global Standard Deity's first church in England. The GSD had a little bit of all religions, arguing that if there was one God, then He would really have very little to do with all the fluff and muddle down here on the material plane, and a streamlining of the faiths might very well be in His interest. Worshippers came and went as they pleased, prayed according to how they felt most happy, and mingled freely with other GSD members. It enjoyed moderate success, but what God actually thought of it no one ever really knew.'

PROFESSOR M. BLESSINGTON, PR (retd) –

The Global Standard Deity

I paid to have my car released with a cheque that I felt sure would bounce, then drove home and had a snack and a shower before driving over to Wanborough and Joffy's first 'Les arts modernes de Swindon' exhibition. Joffy had asked me for a list of my colleagues to boost the numbers, so I fully expected to see some work people there. I had even asked Cordelia, who I had to admit was great fun when not in PR mode. The art exhibition was being held in the Global Standard Deity church at Wanborough and had been opened by Frankie Saveloy a half-hour before I arrived. It seemed quite busy as I stepped inside; all the pews had been moved out and artists, critics, press and potential purchasers milled among the eclectic collection of art. I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter, suddenly remembered I shouldn't be drinking, sniffed at it longingly and put it down again. Joffy, looking very smart indeed in a dinner jacket and dog-collar, leapt forward when he saw me, grinning wildly.

'Hello, Doofus!' he said, hugging me affectionately. 'Glad you could make it. Have you met Mr Saveloy?'

Without waiting for an answer he propelled me towards where a puffy man stood quite alone at the side of the room. He introduced me as quickly as he could and then legged it. Frankie Saveloy was the compère of Name That Fruit! and looked more like a toad in real life than he did on TV. I half expected a long sticky tongue to shoot out and capture a wayward fly, but I smiled politely nonetheless.

'Mr Saveloy,' I said, offering my hand. He took it in his clammy mitt and held on to it tightly.

'Delighted!' grunted Saveloy, his eyes flicking to my cleavage. 'I'm sorry we couldn't get you to appear on my show – but you're probably feeling quite honoured to meet me, just the same.'

'Quite the reverse,' I assured him, retrieving my hand forcibly.

'Ah!' said Saveloy, grinning so much the sides of his mouth almost met his ears and I feared the top of his head might fall off. 'I have my Rolls-Royce outside. Perhaps you might like to join me for a ride?'

'I think,' I replied, 'that I would sooner eat rusty nails.'

He didn't seem in the least put out. He grinned some more and said:

'Shame to put such magnificent hooters to waste, Miss Next.'

I raised my hand to slap him but my wrist was

caught by Cordelia Flakk, who had decided to intervene.

'Up to your old tricks, Frankie?'

Saveloy grimaced at Cordelia.