Rosy Is My Relative
Rosy Is My Relative
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What does a young man bequeathed £500 and an elephant with a taste for liquor do? Adrian Whistle thinks he has the answer - he'll give her to the circus. But it isn't so easy.
Together Adrian and Rosy cut a swathe of terror and destruction through the peaceful countryside of southern England. Drunk or sober, Rosy spreads chaos in her wake, till her hapless victims claim the full majesty of the law against her . . .
'His uproarious first novel.' Daily Mirror
'Comic havoc!' New York Times
'Enchanting . . . beautifully told.' Scotsman
Adrian admitted, grinning. ‘I’ve never seen so many huntsmen fall off at once.’ The man in the landau gave a crow of laughter, and then, taking off his top hat, he held out a slender hand. ‘I’m Lord Fenneltree, by the by, and I’m delighted to meet you.’ ‘Thank you, sir,’ stammered Adrian. ‘My name’s Rookwhistle, Adrian Rookwhistle, and that’s Rosy.’ ‘Charming names,’ said his lordship vaguely, and then fell into a reverie, staring into space. Adrian, never having met a lord before, was
the next two days Adrian hardly remembered anything except that Samantha always seemed to be there, smoothing his pillow, holding his head as he vomited into a large china chamber pot covered with rosebuds, and giving him soothing, cooling drinks when his fever got high. He wondered hazily how she managed to get any sleep, for whenever he opened his eyes, either during the day or the night, she always seemed to be there, sitting patiently on a chair by his bed, concentrating on some tapestry she
think, in fact, I could get up. I’m afraid I’ve caused you far too much trouble as it is.’ ‘Nonsense,’ said Samantha briskly, placing the tray on his lap. ‘You get these eggs down you. They’re fresh this morning. Father went into the village for them.’ ‘How’s Rosy?’ asked Adrian anxiously. ‘Fine,’ said Samantha raising her eyebrows. ‘Why? Shouldn’t she be?’ ‘She doesn’t normally take to women,’ explained Adrian. ‘Well, she’s taken to me,’ said Samantha, ‘and she adores father. I think she
abandoned females who stood on the backs of horses in spangled tights? To have a female acrobat suddenly pushed into your life was bad enough, but to have a drunken female acrobat pushed into your life was surely more than anyone could endure. How could his uncle have done this to him? Retrieving his bowler hat, he made Mr Pucklehammer’s yard almost at a run. Mr Pucklehammer was sitting on a newly completed coffin finishing his breakfast, which consisted of a pint of beer and a cheese sandwich
well,’ said the judge. ‘Just this once. And now I suggest that we all adjourn. I don’t know about you gentlemen, but I am beginning to feel decidedly peckish. We will resume at two o’clock.’ ‘My lord,’ said Sir Magnus, ‘prison fare, as you know, is not of the sort that makes a gourmet tremble with delight. I would therefore ask your lordship most humbly, if it would be possible for you to release my client so that he may lunch with me?’ ‘You really do ask for the most unusual things, Sir