On A Clear Day You Can See Forever Page #6

Poor, fumbling, old, rich thing.

But you heard a witness testify to

having seen you on the London docks

on the night of November 14th,

consorting in secret

with a known enemy of the crown.

- He lies!

- Wait, wait, wait.

I'm so glad you interrupted.

I cannot bear this trial another minute.

- What are you on trial for?

- Oh, please.

Very well, never mind.

You were going to tell me

about an incident

when Winnie Wainwhisle

finds something for you.

Yes.

It was the day I first met Robert.

What a glorious day it was.

- Where are you?

- Where we met.

At the Royal Pavilion at Brighton

three years ago.

Percy. Percy, put on

your spectacles at once.

Hurry.

Now look directly across the lawn.

Do you see Diana Smallwood?

- Unmistakably Diana Smallwood.

- Who is that with her?

Robert Tentrees.

- What does he do?

- As little as possible.

Joseph Pelham was complaining

about him the other day.

He knows Tentrees' father

and gave the boy a position.

Maritime insurance.

You know, old ships at sea.

- Is he married?

- No.

But he should have been,

many times.

And he will be soon.

I can't wait to hear

how you arrange that.

My dearest love

Who existed in a dream

Till this evening

When a wave came

And swept me out to sea

None of the loves

That you have known

Could prepare you for the love

Raging everywhere in me

For all the arms

That have covered you

The hands that have touched you

And the lips you have lingered on

Before

Added together would be less

Than an olive

In the banquet of love

I have in store

Love seasoned to entice

Love with all the trimmings

Filled with spice

Love flavoured to your whim

Served piping hot

With all the trimmings

For I'll decode every breath

And every sigh

Till your every lover's wish

Is fulfilled before it's made

Toss in some jealousy and doubt

Should it be required

Not rest till there's

Nothing more desired

Thus loving as I do

Never, never will you ever be untrue

Having love with all the trimmings

Waiting home

For you

Gentlemen. His Highness.

Chef, my good fellow.

Your Royal Highness.

Never in history

have taste buds been

so delectably treated

as they were tonight

with your extraordinary

salmon mousse.

Served with cream

and vin rouge sauce.

Garnished with truffles

and exotic herbs.

You seem to know this woman.

Who is she?

Winnie Wainwhisle.

Do you have a name for this,

if I may be allowed a Gallic pun,

this chef-d'oeuvre?

Yes, with pleasure.

Come this way.

I humbly christen it

Salmon Beurre Brigette.

- To my chef.

- To the chef.

- Melinda.

- Mum.

- Is that your mother?

- Yes.

How are you, Melinda?

Mum, did you ever hear

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