Cosmopolitan

Chapter 4

"Well, my friends," cried Alex when he arrived in the dining room the next morning about an hour later than everyone else. Clarence and Daniel looked up from their plates, but Ivy calmly continued to stuff herself with orange marmalade toast. Travis, who was just about to leave, merely shook his head and coughed to hide his giggles.
"What do you think about taking a trip to the capital for once? Breathe in a little of the good Thames air?
"Or a nice walk along the peaceful streets of Hackney," Clarence said, raising an eyebrow.
"So if you start like that again right away, I won't do anything with you anymore," Alex replied, pretending to pout.
"No no, I think it's a very good idea", Daniel said quickly.
Clarence rolled his eyes. He actually liked Daniel, but when he behaved so servile, he couldn't stand him.
"And what about you, Ivy?" Alex asked.
"What?" said lvy with her mouth full. "I don't know. I don't care. It certainly sounds more fun than sitting around here all day. Besides, I'm scared to death every time your brother comes up behind me out of nowhere."
"That's a very accurate description of my brother," Alex replied amusedly. "So it's decided then. And you're coming too!" he said towards Clarence.
"Yes yes. The king said it, the boy ran, that's what happened, didn't it?"
"Very true. I just have to ask my mother."
"How will you ever become an independent man if you always ask your mother first," said Clarence, but he did it so quietly that Alex did not hear him.

Of course, Lady Catherine allowed it, because it was almost impossible to refuse Alex anything when he looked at you pleadingly from big, sapphire blue eyes.
So the small group set off for London the next day, Ivy and Clarence in Ivy's, Alex and Daniel in Daniel's car.

Oh yes, London was something different from tiny Chagford with its two shops and smoky pub.
London was a symphony of the street and in the middle of it all was the Cosmopolitan Cafe, a golden palace of sin, with wooden panelling on the walls and lots and lots of champagne flowing through the corridors.
It looked impressive from the outside, but could not hold a candle to its interior.
It was high and painted completely white, similar to a Parisian townhouse with ornate balconies and an enchanted breeze blowing around it. No ominous lettering pointed to the inside, only through a small entrance with a single lantern above it could be reached.

As if in a trance, Alex and his companions stepped over this sacred threshold for the first time. They saw the thick red velvet carpets on the floor and the artfully intertwined stairs that seemed to lead everywhere. As it was still quite early in the afternoon, the evening regular clienté had not yet arrived, only a few guests who had not made it home from the day before were more or less hanging around the brightly polished bar.

The whole establishment was run by a small, chubby man of indeterminate age who called himself M. Poullier, but it was by no means certain that this was his real name, let alone that he was French.
As Alex would later learn, M. Poullier preferred not to reveal anything about himself, his background or his business, but instead to look after the welfare of his guests alone. And so he did, with heart and soul.