Heil Harris! Read Online Free PDF Page B

to the door. While he was saying good evening to the policeman Emma glanced over her shoulder to see whether Higgs and the colonel were likely to prove an embarrassment. But the kitchen was silent.
    “Good evening, constable,” said Emma. “It’s nice to know that we’re being looked after so efficiently. Can we offer you a cup of tea while you’re here?”
    The policeman puffed for a moment while he examined their three faces. “That would be very acceptable, miss. It’s cold out tonight. Luckily the rain has given over.”
    Emma put her head round the kitchen door and called, “Higgs, an extra cup of tea for the constable.” She smiled diffidently at the sound of a tray being dropped on the floor. “Are you the normal policeman on this beat?” she asked conversationally.
    “Yes, miss. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
    “No, you wouldn’t have. I’m from London. King Street sent me down to sort out a few local confusions. That’s why these poor gentlemen are working so late.”
    “Is Mr. Goldman here?”
    Emma laughed. “I’m afraid not. That’s what the confusion is all about. He won’t be working here any more.”
    “But he’s been secretary for seventeen years.” The constable removed his helmet and scratched his head. “Has he been purged?”
    “Well, relieved of his duties. He hasn’t been liquidated, because this is England. Ha ha ha. Things have changed in the two years since Mr. Khruschev retired. By the way, this is Mr. Keegan, the new secretary.” She waved towards the games master. “Say hello to the policeman, Mr. Keegan.”
    “Hello,” said the games master.
    At that moment Higgs came in with the tea looking more nervous than a live eel about to be jellied. The cups rattled as he put the tray on the desk.
    “One lump, constable, or two?”
    “Three, if you don’t mind, Mrs.—?”
    “Peel. I’m afraid we don’t have any chocolate biscuits.”
    “That’s all right, Mrs. Peel. I’m supposed to be slimming.”
    The policeman must have been used to unfriendly people because he didn’t seem unduly suspicious of the three monosyllabic men who stood around waiting for him to go. He relaxed and enjoyed the cup of tea and talked happily about the halcyon days in 1936 when he’d almost joined the C.P. himself.
    “But I’m glad I didn’t,” he said solemnly. “The occupation of eastern Europe wasn’t a brotherly manoeuvre, and look at Hungary. Nasty business that. I’m non-political myself. You have to be, in the police.”
    Eventually he placed the empty cup in the precise centre of the desk, put his helmet back on and said that he must be going. “I hope you stay around, Mrs. Peel,” he declared, “at least long enough to give me another cup of tea. Good night, brothers. Ha ha ha.” And he went back into the street feeling very pleased with himself.
    As soon as the policeman had turned the corner Higgs ran back into the kitchen and dragged out Colonel Hayburn. “I’m bloody leaving,” he shouted to Emma, “and you can say what the hell you like.”
    Emma didn’t say anything. She put the files under her arm so that she could read more about the Werewolves in bed, glanced quickly round the headquarters to make sure that nothing incriminating had been left behind, and followed the rest of the party. They were already half way up the street, walking noisily and fast, with Colonel Hayburn in the middle to maintain him on a straight course.
    “Spirit,” the colonel was saying drunkenly, “I always like to encourage spirit when I see it. That bitch has a spirit of adventure. I like that. Nerve. The thrill of battle.”
    They hadn’t exploded the petrol bomb, but it was better that way. Emma doubted whether the communist party would report the theft of a few files, and they could sort out the mysterious reinstatement of Mr. Goldman next time they saw the policeman. But arson was a crime.
    “Emma, you bitch, that was pretty well handled. Come here and let