In his bedroom, Barry looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t, it has to be said, entirely comfortable in the suit. Peevish had helped him put it on, which had felt a little weird as his mum and dad hadn’t helped him dress for a long time. But then again he didn’t normally wear suits. And certainly not shirts with cufflinks. And bow ties. Well, he had once worn a bow tie, to a party of Taj’s, but it had been a clip-on.
The shirt even had a high stiff collar, like Peevish wore, which you had to tie the bow tie around. Barry had tried to tie the bow tie himself, thinking it couldn’t be that different from the knot he tied in his laces, but it just meant that his neck ended up looking like a big shoe.
So Peevish helped him. And, even though he wasn’t comfy, he looked good, Barry thought, surveying his image in the mirror once more. He looked a bit… a bit… like James Bond. Which was very good. As that was what the party was meant to be about.
It had been difficult to explain the party theme, as neither Lord nor Lady Rader-Wellorff nor any of the children with names like Jeremy had ever heard of James Bond.
It was becoming clear to Barry that this world, although very like his in some ways, was also quite different, and not just in the obvious children-choosing-their-parents way. But he had done his best to explain to his prospective mother and father about his spy hero. Although they’d been confused about a lot of things – MI6, Spectre, jet packs and Barry going Dah Da-Da-Da/Dadada/Dah!da-da-da/Da-Da-Da/DAH-DAH!/Dadada – they had jumped up in the air, clapping when he said two little magic words:
casino.
And:
guns.
“Oh!” said Lady Rader-Wellorff. “We’ve got loads of those!”
“Casinos?” said Barry.
“No! Guns. But we can do the casino in the Great Room, can’t we, Lord R-W?”
“Yaahs,” said Lord Rader-Wellorff. “As long as you don’t lose another three million like you did last time, Lady R-W!! Ha ha ha!! Hmm? Hmm?!”
“Ha ha ha!”
Barry had laughed along with this, but then stopped, realising he didn’t actually know what he’d been laughing at.
There was a knock on the door. Barry thought about what to say. Then he remembered.
“Come!”
Silence. Then, from outside the door: “What, in?”
“Er… yes.”
The door opened. Peevish leant in. “Your guests are waiting for you, oh great Punjab,” he said.