The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s. Brian Aldiss
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it is your duty to,’ she said composedly to his bowed head. She picked up the phone from the side table.
‘Rupert, are you there? … Hello, Rupert? … Whitehall, I think we’re cut off. Oh, hello, Rupert; I thought we were cut off.’
The young secretary’s voice had a new note of tension in it.
‘Lady Elizabeth, I’m afraid the situation is more desperate than we at first though. We’ve been cut off from the British Embassy in Moscow; that line is dead. The last word we had was that it was surrounded by an angry mob who were trying to break in. Meanwhile, the Kremlin has come through to us on another line. Is Sir Herbert there?’
‘He’s here and he will speak.’
‘Praise be. Tell him that I am in a position to switch him straight through to Zagravov, Molochev’s Deputy. The man is in a flaming temper and claims that Sir Herbert has committed an act of personal persiflage that is tantamount to a declaration of war. Impress on Sir Herbert that Zagravov will need very delicate handling.’
‘I understand.’
Her face was pale as she turned to Sir Herbert. He had just finished draining her cold cup of coffee.
‘I feel a bit more cheerful for that,’ he said.
‘You have need to be.’ Gravely she told him what Rupert had said. The PM got up and paced the room as he listened. When she had finished, she added, ‘You’ll have to explain to Zagravov about page six as tactfully as possible.’
To her astonishment, the PM burst into laughter.
‘It’s all so terribly funny, when you think of it,’ he said. ‘And after all, President Molochev is a disagreeable sight that should be abolished! These miserable diplomats have no sense of humour. Give me that phone. Let me try and make old Zagravov see the joke.’
‘Herbert!’
Lady Elizabeth backed away in horror as the PM, smiling broadly, seized the phone and began to tell Moscow exactly what he thought of Russian statesmen.
Nancy, the Hon. Mrs Lyon-Bowater, second wife of Towin, the Rt. Hon. Lord Lyon-Bowater, Secretary of State for Air, vigorously embraced Johnny Earthquake as their taxi carried them south through the patchily-lit streets of London after dark.
‘How was the show, Honey?’ he asked at last, gasping for breath.
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