Coronation Read Online Free PDF

anxiously into the faces of their elders.
    The second plain-clothes detective asked, ‘Can you tell us who sold you these tickets?’
    In one sickening, heart-breaking moment the heretofore good, decent, honest British universe was collapsing about Clagg. And standing there among the shards it came to him that he must face the fact that his cousin Bert was either a crook himself or the biggest fool in the world. Neither of these contingencies was to be admitted before a stranger. ‘No,’ he replied.
    Granny’s eyes glowered behind her spectacles. Her arms went akimbo in the gesture that Clagg knew all too well; she was going to make a speech. ‘If it was me,’ she snapped, ‘I’d tell ’em. I have a good mind to right now –’
    ‘Be quiet!’ ordered Will, and the menace that flamed suddenly into his heavy, anguished face frightened and silenced her. ‘It wasn’t his fault. He thought he was doing us proud. It could happen to anyone.’
    Now, for the first time, the full import of the catastrophe was brought home to Violet Clagg, who translated the empty space where the house should have been into her own terms of disaster. ‘Then there won’t be any bubbly!’ she wailed. For at that moment this was as far as she could see and tears commenced to fall from her eyes. Frightened, Gwenny began to cry too without knowing why.
    Johnny asked, ‘Dad, what’s happened? What’s wrong, Dad?’
    Will Clagg replied bitterly, ‘We’ve been swindled!’
    The wind sighed around the curve of the Crescent and blew bitingly from the gaping hole. Behind its chilly front the light drizzle turned into heavy rain. Granny reached for the children, tugging their raincoats tighter about them and buttoning up their collars with the harsh, jerky movements employed by grown-ups with their young when they are irritated. ‘If I ever lay my hands on that Bert –’ she muttered, yanking at the buttonhole of Johnny’s collar so that the boy said, ‘Ow, Granny!’ and stiffened in resistance.
    The first detective pounced upon the name. ‘Bert, eh? Bert who?’
    Will turned on Granny savagely. ‘I told you to keep your bloody mouth shut!’ Then to the detective, ‘Bert nobody! I bought ’em from a fellow in the street outside St Pancras.’
    And there they were, the two groups with a wall between them – the constable, the two suspicious detectives and the innocent Claggs, with the latter somehow forced into the position of being not quite that innocent. They had something to hide. Clagg had nothing against the police and always got on well with the men on post back home, yet he was of that environment to whom a copper was a copper and never wholly to be trusted.
    Violet Clagg said weakly, ‘But look at the name of the comp’ny on the tickets where it says No. 18 Victoria Road. Maybe we could go there and get our money back.’
    The second detective said wearily, ‘Ma’am, we’ve been there already. That’s another hole in the ground. So far it’s been mostly Americans and Australians that’s got stuck with these.’ He snorted. ‘Description of man selling same – two eyes, ears, a nose and a mouth. But if you could help us with this ’ere Bert we might have a chance to collar one or two of those spivs—’
    Clagg snatched the tickets back from the detective who was holding them and asked angrily, ‘Would it get us what’s called for – a view of the procession, breakfast and that there buffet lunch with champagne?’
    ‘No,’ replied the detective, ‘but—’
    ‘Then there wasn’t any Bert,’ Clagg said curtly. ‘Come to think of it, it was more like Joe or Sam.’
    The two detectives and the policeman stood regarding him heavily at this obviously mendacious statement. They made a kind of static islet in the constantly moving stream of people. Here were more Londoners come from all quarters of the vast city, visitors from out of town, vendors of programmes, flags, balloons and souvenirs, all swarming in