Shrines of Gaiety

by Kate Atkinson

Ramsay, Nellie’s second son,

Frobisher—“Frobisher of the Yard,”

Freddie Bassett, the head barman,

First of all, Niven—unsurprisingly absent from Holloway this morning—followed soon after by Edith. There had followed a hiatus while Nellie attempted to refute further motherhood and then, having failed, she produced in quick succession Betty, Shirley and Ramsay, and bringing up the rear, the runt of the litter, eleven-year-old Kitty, or le bébé

Maddox was a helpful sort of policeman, who, for a sum of money every week, would

There was nothing wrong with having a good time as long as she didn’t have to have one herself.

Keeper, Niven’s German

Freda—Alfreda Murgatroyd—had

“We’re a funny little family, aren’t we?” Vanda said.

their expressions for her own. The

eloquent eyebrows. They could conduct entire conversations with them, without saying a word. Phyllis had not yet mastered this

cellmate, Agnes, or call for a wardress. There was no point, because she knew the identity of her ghost. It was Maud, the hostess who had died of an overdose on Armistice night in Jaeger’s Dance Hall.

had a French wife, even more intrigued to know that she was often not in her right mind.

If men were to “gossip,” the world might be a better place. There would certainly be fewer wars.

The man was too interesting to share.

Lying came easily to Niven, he thought of it as a means of protecting the truth.

both lost to her—Florence Ingram was Freda’s only friend.

Born out of wedlock,” Vanda said when Freda told them about her friend. “A bastard,” Duncan said more straightforwardly.)

they had been kittens she would have adored them, but sadly they bore no resemblance to kittens.

A tribe of Bedouins preparing to cross the desert with a caravan of camels probably took less time to get underway than Cissy and her brood.

suppose you could always share a room with Bobby.”

suicides—his wife had been one.

Betty might be shallow, but she had depths of ruthlessness not shared by Shirley and Ramsay.

billet-doux?”

strong Nellie was predictable, but a weak Nellie might do anything.

half-hour researching his novel by questioning her about housebreaking, pickpocketing and “smash and grab.”

Freda was sure she had enough optimism for both

come up trumps

Templeton’s days were numbered at the Crystal Cup. Edith had told Nellie that he was suspected of having his hand in the till.

bag was no longer there.

Nellie wasn’t really a

woman, she was an element, like iron. Or metonymic—as the King was to the Crown, so Nellie was to the Coker empire.

they consumed such vast amounts of alcohol and dope that they had no interest in eating.

spotted something that looked like the heel of a shoe, lodged between two beer crates.

“And I’ll take that,”

was in danger of going under.

Catholic, he would never leave his wife. Edith took some comfort from that.

She had thrown the bag in the canal in case

Orpheus could have sent them in to rescue Eurydice from Hades.

never ceased to surprise the Cokers how willing nightclub patrons were to pitch in behind the scenes. For the novelty of it, rather than altruism. They loved a disaster.

Azzopardi seemed to be playing some kind of game with her. Nellie didn’t like games, there was always the chance that you could lose.

Vivian Quinn

“You cannot profit from your own vices, only those of others.”

was Edith, not Gwendolen Kelling, who had set in motion the fall of the house of Coker. The only thing that would redeem her now was if she could stop the collapse.

Maddox, of all people!—holding Edith’s hand, like any common lover.

Niven and Edith, while Betty and Shirley were to receive a sum of ten thousand each and Ramsay and Kitty to have a meagre one thousand. (He was lumped together with

Nellie knew that Gwendolen had been engaged by Frobisher to insinuate herself into their lives.

He was after revenge.

Niven had embraced the machine age in a way that Frobisher clearly had not.

Frobisher never came out best, when really he should.