Mrs Harris Goes to Moscow Read Free

Vodka, caviar, coddling, Intourist putting its best foot forward to pull the wool over the eyes of the West; and behind the smiling mask the cruellest and most treacherous people on earth. They’d never give me a visa and especially after this book comes out,’ and he tapped a thick pile of manuscript on his desk. ‘If I were to contact the girl they’d have her in one of those cells so fast she wouldn’t know what hit her.’
    Mrs Harris was beginning to see a little. That cell would be somewhere behind that wall. ‘Ow,’ she said ‘you’re prop’ly in the cart, ain’t you?’ which was the strongest expression she knew for a crushing defeat. ‘But she’ll understand, won’t she?’
    The full import of Lockwood’s tragedy was then revealed. ‘How can she?’ he groaned. ‘Don’t you see? There’d be no report about my expulsion. I’d promised to be in touch with her when I got back to Moscow. That was six months ago. What I can’t bear besides everything else is her thinking I’ve run out on her.’
    Mrs Harris drew on her fund of experience. ‘If she loves yer, she’d never think that.’
    Lockwood cried, ‘What else should she believe? It’s classic, isn’t it? Madame Butterfly.’
    Mrs Harris said, ‘Madame ’oo?’
    â€˜Never mind,’ said Lockwood. ‘He promised and didn’t come back either. It’s one of the oldest ploys in the game.’
    Mrs Harris had no knowledge of the treachery of Lieutenant Pinkerton to poor Cio Cio San and so she resorted to advice again. ‘Come on now, luv, you’re lettin’ this get yer down. Use your nut. Write ’er a letter.’
    Lockwood shook his head. ‘It won’t do,’ he said. ‘All foreign mail is intercepted and read. At the slightest indication that she had any connection with me she’d be arrested. They’d see a plot at once. She’d lose her job if not worse and she would be subject to endless persecution.’
    The whole picture had now developed for Mrs Harris and some of Mr Lockwood’s despair entered her own warm-hearted and sympathetic soul. ‘Corblimey,’ she said. ‘You poor man. You are for the ’igh jump, ain’t you?’
    â€˜Never mind me,’ Lockwood cried. ‘It’s her I’m thinking of, believing I’ve run out on her like every other sod who’s had what he wanted from a girl. It’s driving me out of my mind. She’s as innocent as a child.’
    Mrs Harris asked, ‘What about your pals in the Foreign Office? Didn’t you say that …’
    She only succeeded in rekindling the moment of rage in Lockwood and he slammed the desk with his fist and shouted, ‘Goddamn bloody hypocrites! Up to yesterday they said they might do something. That’s why I brought out her photo and dared to look at it again. This morning a flat turndown. Change in the political situation. “Sorry, old boy, can’t rock the boat right now, you know.”’
    The impasse was quite clear now. If he tried to get through to the girl she would be implicated. If he didn’t she would go on believing the man she loved had cruelly deserted her and in the meantime two lovers implacably separated were suffering broken hearts.
    Mrs Harris, moved to the depth of her being and close to tears, said, ‘Lord, Mr Lockwood, I wish I could ’elp yer.’
    Lockwood said gloomily, ‘Nobody can help me.’ He picked up the photograph and snapped shut the back flap which assisted it to stand.
    Mrs Harris said, ‘Don’t put ’er away. Leave ’er there. Yer never know what might ’appen. She’ll ’elp yer keep yer tucker up.’
    He replaced the photo as Mrs Harris had bidden him and then for a moment they both fell into silence and during that silence Mrs Harris indulged herself in a