A Presumption of Death Read Online Free PDF Page B

out and see what’s happening,’ said Mr Gudgeon. ‘It’ll be closing time in a minute.’
    ‘That’s right, landlord. Get us out of here in time to have another drink!’ said Mr Puffett.
    Mr Gudgeon climbed his steps, and opened the heavy wooden doors to the bar. They heard his footsteps across the flagstone floor, and they heard the street door open, creaking on its hinges. They didn’t hear the all-clear. Instead they heard the dull grinding sound of aircraft.
    ‘Gawd-strewth, Baker, are you sure this is just practice?’ someone said.
    ‘This is getting a bit out of hand, Simon,’ said the vicar’s wife softly to her husband. ‘Can you do something?’
    ‘What do you suggest, my dear?’
    ‘A sing-song? I’m sure the Methodists are having a sing-song in their cave.’
    ‘Excellent idea. Now who can find us a note?’
    ‘Mr Puffett might have his accordion with him,’ Mrs Goodacre suggested. ‘That box of his looks rather large for a gas mask.’
    An expression of pain crossed the vicar’s countenance, but he mastered himself and went across to talk to Tom Puffett.
    Tom had indeed got his squeeze-box handy. The vicar stood to beat time. He had hauled his favourite choir-boy to stand up and take the lead.
    ‘ Abide with me; fast falls the eventide  . . .’ the boy began.
    ‘No, no, dear!’ cried Mrs Goodacre. ‘No, Simon – something cheerful!’
    ‘Well I’m not sure that I know—’
    ‘Think of something!’ Mrs Goodacre commanded. ‘Something you boys sing out of church . . . anything!’
    ‘Anything?’ the boy said. A conspiratorial grin of great wickedness lit his countenance. He lifted his heavenly ethereal treble, and sang:
    Hitler has only got one ball!
    Goering has two but rather small . . .
    The company gasped, and then began to laugh. They roared with laughter; a sort of hysterical mirth possessed them, they swayed and held on to each other, laughing till they cried.
    Mr Puffett put huge elbow grease into his horrible harmonium, and the boy’s lovely voice soared above the racket:
    Himmler, is somewhat simmler,
    And Dr Goebbels has no balls at all!
    It turned out that this lamentable ditty was rather well known, for when Puffett struck the note again the whole company offered a hearty repeat performance.
    ‘Well,’ said Mrs Simcox as the finale died down, ‘I’ll tell you one thing, vicar. I’ll bet my life the Methodists aren’t singing that  !’ Whereupon gales of laughter rang round the vaults again.
    ‘I ought to reprove that boy,’ said Mr Goodacre. ‘What a disgrace.’
    ‘Not this time, vicar,’ said Harriet quietly. ‘Can’t you feel how he’s changed the atmosphere down here?’
    ‘Do you really think so, Lady Peter? Can I really let it pass? Such language! And women present!’
    ‘The women laughed too, vicar. And do you know, I rather think that while we laugh we can’t be beaten.’
    ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Ah.’
    And while he was thinking about it, to change the subject, Harriet said, ‘Talking of scandals, will somebody point out to me this scandalous land-girl everyone is talking about. Which is she?’
    ‘Wendy Percival, you mean?’ said Mrs Goodacre. ‘The one they’re calling Wicked Wendy?’
    ‘However do you know that, my dear?’ exclaimed Mr Goodacre.
    ‘Ways and means, Simon, ways and means. Well, now you come to mention it I can’t see her. I haven’t seen her at all tonight. That’s odd; I would have expected to see her at the dance, now you come to mention it. Rather her sort of occasion with all those good-looking airmen around.’
    ‘Perhaps she’s took shelter with the Methodists,’ said Mrs Ruddle. ‘They’ll give ’er a warm welcome, I don’t think!’ More laughter.
    ‘You know, my dear,’ said Mr Goodacre, ‘I really don’t think it is right to call that young woman wicked. It makes me quite uneasy. She may be a little wild, but when you think what turpitude we do hear about, it really isn’t