A Change of Heir Read Free Page B

eye. ‘For the time being, that is,’ he added rather obscurely.
    ‘Do I understand, Mr Gadberry, that you are leaving us for some days?’ Mrs Lapin had shifted her position. In fact she was now planted in front of the door which would lead her lodger to freedom. ‘Perhaps a country-house weekend with the aristocracy? Or a professional engagement at Chequers, it might be? Mr George Gadberry gives his celebrated farmyard imitations to the assembled Prime Ministers of the Empire?’
    ‘Nothing of the sort, Mrs Lapin.’ Gadberry contrived the appearance of taking these crude jibes as sallies of refined wit. He was not, of course, in the habit of offering farmyard imitations; it was a form of the mimetic art, he supposed, that had retreated from the music hall to the village institute round about the time that he was born. Mrs Lapin herself, it occurred to him, could put up a very fair show as an enraged turkey. But this was all the more reason for speaking her fair. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I expect to be back by lunch time.’ He picked up the suitcase – contriving, as he did so, a great appearance of its being as light as a feather. ‘I’m simply taking a few things round to the cleaner’s. Rather a grubby part of London, this.’ He saw that here was an unhappy remark, for Ma Lapin was showing signs of mounting truculence. ‘No offence intended,’ he added hastily.
    ‘’E give me a tanner!’ Quite unexpectedly, Bessie Lapin had thrust out a pointing finger at Gadberry. Both her gesture and her tone were of an accusatory nature. The child might have been saying ‘’e give me a clip on the ear’, or even ‘Ma, e did something rude’. There was a moment’s silence. ‘’E give me a tanner to buy a lolly, ’e did,’ Bessie elaborated with undiminished severity. She held up the coin as if it were some damning piece of evidence.
    ‘Well, that was very kind of Mr Gadberry, I’m sure.’ Ma Lapin’s expression had softened. ‘A very nice thought.’ She moved away from the door, looking straight at Gadberry as she did so. ‘But we mustn’t keep you,’ she said. ‘You’ll be wanting to get to the cleaner’s before the rush. Bessie, open the door for Mr Gadberry.’
    Bessie did as she was told. Gadberry gave the suitcase a jaunty swing, because it was more or less automatic with him to keep up a bit of acting once he had embarked upon it. In actuality, he noticed, it was surprisingly heavy. But this, he knew, wasn’t why he was a little flushed as he passed through the doorway and made his way into the liberty of the street. Being rather more than normally quick in such matters, he had understood that straight look of Ma Lapin’s in a flash. Of course she hadn’t been for a moment taken in as to what he was about. Come to think of it, no experienced theatrical landlady could have been. It was simply that the blessed sixpence – or was it the damned sixpence? – had tipped some balance in her mind. She had seen him as a poor devil who was down and out, and she had let him go.
    Gadberry walked off down the nearly deserted side street. He walked surprisingly quickly, considering the burden he was carrying. This was partly a matter of prudence – the odd old girl might change her mind – and partly because he was bitterly and mysteriously angry. He supposed he was angry with a world that had of late been treating him so scurvily. But he was in no doubt that he was angry with himself as well. The two emotions seemed simultaneously to combine and to conflict. The resulting state of mind was extremely uncomfortable.
    He found a telephone kiosk, set down his suitcase where it would be safely in view, and went inside. He made one call which produced no answer, so that he pressed the button and got his money back. He made a second call, and got through, but the resulting conversation was unsatisfactory. He searched round in his head, and made two further calls: the result of one might have