Mrs Harris Goes to Moscow Read Online Free PDF

fountains illuminated at night inevery hue, boulevards, wide open spaces, the world’s most colourful churches all wearing twisted, turbanlike domes, with further reproductions of bursts of the most glorious fireworks. Here were pictures of Moscow in winter, Moscow in summer, spring and autumn. There were special folders devoted to Soviet art festivals showing scenes from operas, plays, ballets, folk choirs and Cossacks. Brochures showed pretty girls in national costume and happy school children. The aircraft looked exactly like those which flew daily overhead on their way to Heathrow. Their interiors appeared as comfortable as any drawing-room, and the airport was little less than fabulous. Hotel rooms seemed as luxurious as any that Ada had cleaned up at Claridge’s or the Savoy when she had done temporary stints there as chambermaid.
    But the most significant thing was the joy upon the faces of the citizens depicted; a lovely girl holding up a bunch of roses and showing perfect teeth in a dental smile, others diverting themselves with beachballs by the sea or lounging on the sand, dancing, singing, playing, smiling, happy, happy, happy. It must have been quite obvious to anyone looking in of an evening into Number 5, Willis Gardens during the duel between the two friends with their exhibits spread out that somewhere, someone wasn’t telling the exact truth. The two sides of the coin, however, produced no more than a stand-off in the struggle.

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    Mrs Butterfield had been right to worry that her assessment of a million pounds as the price for which she might be persuaded to make the trip was, in the case of Ada’s determination, not enough, for Ada’s forces of will and coercion were so redoubtable and well-known that the million pounds tended to dwindle in efficacy.
    Thus, one evening Ada counter-attacked from, of all bases, Violet Butterfield’s main citadel, the press. She looked up from her paper to remark casually, ‘I guess if ’er mum can let ’er daughter go ridin’ around over there it can’t be so turrible and there ain’t nuffink going to ’appen to a couple of old biddies like us as long as we keep off ’orses.’
    Mrs Butterfield bit. ‘Mum? What mum? ’Oo’s daughter? Keep off ’orses?’
    â€˜The Queen,’ replied Mrs Harris. ‘ ’Ere, read it. It’s about Princess Anne going to Russia to ride on her ’orse wif her boyfriend and her dad’s going too. Now, what ’ave you got to say to that?’
    It was true. These events were taking place just shortly before the World Championship Horse Trials at Kiev and Mrs Butterfield was compelled to assimilate the news that Princess Anne, her father and her then fiancé were planning to journey thither to take part.
    It was a blow and Violet could offer only the feeblest of defences. ‘Them’s royalty,’ she countered. ‘ ’Oo’d dare do anything to them? There’d be a war. It’s the likes of us would be treated shameful. I’ve just been readin’ again abaht what it’s like. No ’ot water in the barf. When you pull the chain after you-know-what nuffink ’appens. Bullied about like a bunch of sheep. ’Oo wants five days of that?’
    At this point, probably because of the figure mentioned, something clicked in Mrs Butterfield’s brain and she opened up a surprise sally which almost destroyed Mrs Harris’s forces.
    â€˜Look ’ere, Ada,’ she said, ‘it’s all very well for the like of Prince Philip and Princess Anne and them royals to go gallyvantin’ off to foreign parts. They ain’t got nuffink else to do. But what about me job?’ And then, mounting her attack, she went on, ‘You! You can practically take a ’oliday when you like. You just tell your people you won’t be backfor a week and they got to lump it if they know what’s good for ’em. The