Freud, Sir Clement, pages 193–4, 229, 233, 234
· "Thankfully, though, there were some nice surprises, too, arising in particular from the kindness and friendship of some wonderful people now entering our lives.
At the beginning of July we received the following letter:
Dear McCanns,
I have a house in P da L, been ashamed of the intrusion to your lives by our media . . . and if you would care to come to lunch/dinner at any time before Wednesday next, do ring and let me know.
I cook decent meals. Sincerely,
Clement Freud
I’m embarrassed to admit that Gerry and I thought this letter was a hoax; more embarrassing still, while we were vaguely aware of Sir Clement, we had to have our memories refreshed by Sandy and Justine before we could place him exactly. Mind you, he wore so many hats – humorist, MP, gourmet, gambler, press columnist, advertiser of dog food, radio and TV personality – that he was hard to pin down.
Gerry responded with a phone call and Sir Clement invited the seven of us there at that time – Gerry and myself with Sean and Amelie, plus Trisha, Sandy and Justine – to lunch the following day. He would be heading back to the UK a few hours later. Sir Clement was eighty-three by then, but his intellect was still razor-sharp (he was appearing on the demanding Radio 4 panel game Just a Minute right up to his death in 2009). I’m usually very intimidated by people with brains the size of planets, but Clement was incredibly warm, funny and instantly likeable. His opening words were ‘Can I interest you in a strawberry vodka?’ It was midday.
I hesitated for a split second, rapidly trying to work out if he was joking. His expression, as always, was deadpan. Not wanting to appear unsociable, I responded, ‘Er, OK then. That would be nice.’ Of course, Clement’s remark about cooking decent meals was tongue-in-cheek: among his other accomplishments, he had trained as a chef and was for many years a food writer and restaurant critic. I can confirm that the lunch he prepared for us that day was bloody marvellous: watercress and egg salad followed by a chicken and mushroom risotto – the best risotto we’ve ever tasted before or since. Clement cheered us up with his lugubrious wit, and would continue to do so by email after his return to England."
· "Clement Freud returned to Praia da Luz on 31 August and called Gerry that day. ‘Is it true, Gerry?’ he said, without preamble.
‘What’s that, Clement?’
‘That you’re close to a breakdown and needing medication?’
Very funny.
‘I have a lot of empathy with the Express though, you know,’ he went on.
For a split second Gerry thought he was serious. ‘Why’s that?’
‘Well, you see, we both suffer from poor circulation.’ Thank God for people like Clement who kept us smiling."
· "Our plans for the evening went out of the window. We cancelled an interview we were scheduled to give Paris Match and dinner with Clement Freud. Gerry rang DCS Bob Small, who was astounded by this latest development. He promised to make some phone calls. Bob was finally able to get hold of Luís Neves, who was reportedly out of the country. Luís claimed not to know anything about it."
· "At 9.50pm, I rang Clement. ‘Come on round,’ he said. ‘It’ll be nice to see you. But you’ll have to forgive my night-time attire.’
We found Clement watching a cookery programme, dressed, as promised, in his nightshirt. It was so ordinary and comforting, a bit like going to see your grandad after a horrible day at school. He gave me one of his looks and a giant glass of brandy, and managed to get a smile out of me with his greeting: ‘So, Kate, which of the devout Catholic, alcoholic, depressed, nymphomaniac parts is correct?’
His response to our catalogue of horrors was merely to raise an eyebrow. Clement had this way of making everything seem a little less terrible. When he heard about the dogs, he remarked laconically, ‘So what are they going to do? Put them on the stand? One bark for yes, two for no?’ He was right, of course; it was ridiculous.
A couple of hours later, fortified by our brandies (it was my first-ever taste of the stuff), some useful snippets of advice and several amusing anecdotes, we left our friend feeling quite a bit better than we had when we’d arrived. The shock of that day, and of what we were now facing, on top of the trauma of Madeleine’s absence, never left us for a second, but it was interludes like this that gave us just enough strength to carry on."
Joana Morais
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